


The Crack in the Diamond Soul

by Levis_turtles



Series: Of Golden Hearts and Diamond Souls [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Aladdin, BillDip, Blood, Cipher Twins - Freeform, F/F, I'm Sorry, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, No Sex, Violence, aladdin billdip, bill's a fucking sap, genie!bill, mabifica, plot heavy, romantic little triangle, the mabifica runs a little dry in the middle there but it comes back after a few chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 07:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 128,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4555554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levis_turtles/pseuds/Levis_turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aladdin AU</p><p>This is exactly what is sounds like - Bill is the Genie, Mabel and Dipper are Aladdin, and Pacifica is the Princess. Throw in a little evil imp (Gideon) and a magical lamp that follows all the rules of the mindscape for good measure and that's pretty much this entire fic.</p><p>Rated mature for violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Diamonds in the Rough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing

The stars above Gravity Falls flickered in the midnight sky, staring down at the inhabitants of the sleepy town. All were peacefully in their homes, fast asleep under the light of the crescent moon. All were safe from the werewolves that roamed the forest and the vampires that lurked in the shadows and the faeries that danced on the glowing waters of the lake, sending musical ripples along the surface. All were silent. All accept one.

A man with skin paler than the moon waited on the hilltop, a dark purpose lurking in his mind. Gideon Gleeful, beloved by all those who did not take the time to get to know him, stood waiting at the top of a hill, shrouded in shadows. His powder blue suit seemed to suck all the light out of the air around him, cloaking him from any wandering eyes. His hands were tucked into the crooks of his folded arms, and he shivered as the cold of the night swirled around him, the wind an eerie whisper in the darkness.

Gideon was facing away from the army of trees when a scarred face split the shadows in half. The face was followed by a body, only half belonging to a man, his skin tapering to fur as it stretched over the bumps of human hips. Light footfalls padded across the grass, and the beast stood proud in front of the boy.

“You’re late,” Gideon chastised, the dark undertones of his voice contradicting the semblance of cheer he painted on each morning. The short man focused on staring into the eyes of his company, rather than his bare lower half.

“One thousand apologies,” the creature breathed, bowing low at Gideon’s shined black shoes.

Gideon waved him off. “Yes, yes. Do you have it?” he asked, his patience diminished, cold blue eyes narrowed. He was chilled to the bone, and if he didn’t return home soon someone would realise he was missing. It was becoming a hassle to lie to them so often, and they had made a habit of asking too many questions.

But that would all be over soon.

“I had to cut a few throats, but I got it.” The satyr answered, reaching a hand into his satchel. He pulled out two gold pieces and brandished them to the man. Gideon’s eyes shone with delight, and he reached out to touch the golden pieces. The satyr snapped his outstretched hand back before Gideon’s stubby fingers could ghost over the relics. “Ah ah ah,” the satyr shook a finger at the boy, “You promised me  _treasure_.”

Gideon laughed, maybe a little forcefully. “Trust me, my fiendish friend,” his hand darted out and snatched the pieces away from the satyr, his eyes promising pain if the creature dared to try that again. “You’ll get what’s coming to you,” he promised. Gideon admired the two pieces nestled in the palms of his hands.

He grinned as he brought his palms together, slowly. He could feel the electricity thrumming through the artefacts as their smooth edges came closer to each other, itching to interlock. Like magnets, each edge called out to the other, and Gideon gasped at the flicker of blue flame as the sides grew closer.

The pieces clicked together.

As soon as they touched, the golden triangle glowed a brilliant blue, and the flames engulfed it. Gideon dropped the hot metal and scowled down at his burnt hands, an angry red triangle marring the soft skin. The triangle whizzed into the air and floated in front of his face, the flame flickering and growing for a second before the amulet flew higher, dancing around in circles, slicing through the air. It twirled around Gideon twice, then crashed past the treeline to fly through the trees.

“Follow that triangle!” Gideon screamed, his little legs already pumping to keep up with the gold and blue streak. “Don’t lose its trail!” With every inch that the triangle flew, it left a trail of bright blue sparks, as well as a burn mark on any trees that got too close.

The glowing shape stretched a few feet away, then a few metres, opening a gap of two metres for every one that Gideon managed to close. “Faster!” He yelled, scrambling to keep upright on the jagged forest floor. Every tree root threatened to trip him up. Every leaf and twig that scratched his face slowed him down and clouded his vision.

Gideon’s breath was coming in short sharp bursts and his legs were screaming at him to stop. He sprinted after the triangle, yelling at it to slow down. But it didn’t. Not until it neared a large waterfall, so tall that Gideon couldn’t see the top of it over the canopy of trees. The triangle floated there for a moment, and then plunged into the water with a resonating ‘plop’

For a moment, there was nothing, and the pool glowed with the luminescence of the fire. The light flickered, then blazed, and the water began to bubble. It boiled, spitting droplets at Gideon and the satyr, and Gideon yelped when a scolding drop hit his cheek, shuffling back a couple of steps. The satyr gasped when the water began to rise.

Slowly at first, then faster, a dome began to form in the centre of the lagoon, a hole forming at its centre and tunnelling deep down beneath the water’s surface. The watery hill grew and grew, until it was almost the size of a house, and then it stopped. The vast hole gaped at them, the triangle hovering in the centre of the hole staring straight out at them like an eye of hell.

“At last!” Gideon finally managed to shriek, jumping up and down with excitement. “After all those years of searching, I’ve finally found it! Oh, I could kiss something right now!”

The satyr took a step away. “Mierda,” he whispered to himself, marking the sign of the cross against his torso. The jagged scars all over his body were illuminated by the brilliant blue cast down on him.

“Now!” Gideon grabbed the satyr’s vest and dragged him down to look in his eyes. “Remember! Bring me the lamp! The rest of the treasure is yours but the lamp is  _mine_.” Gideon shoved the creature forward.

The satyr chuckled, rubbing his hands together as he thought of all the treasure buried in the watery tomb. His steps became more cautious as he reached the water’s edge. Peering down into the fiery blue abyss, he lifted a tentative hoof and dipped it into the water, surprised to find it neither hot nor cold. His foot, barely three inches into the water, was met with something solid, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

And he was thrown away from the pool, screaming.

“Who dares disturbs my slumber?” A sourceless voice demanded, rumbling through the forest and shaking the ground. A few rocks fell into the iridescent pool, and the fires in the pit flared, sending a wave of heat towards the two males.

The satyr whimpered. “It- it is I, Grouper. The humble satyr.” He scrambled to his feet. His voice shook, as did his body, and Gideon rolled his eyes at him.

“Know this - only two halves of a whole may enter here.” The deep voice boomed, and Gideon frowned – he didn’t remember reading  _that_  in the journal. “Two who are worth much more than what lies within. Twins, two diamonds in the rough.” 

The flames died back down, and Grouper cast a glance to Gideon, his eyes begging to be let out of the deal. Gideon scowled. This could all be a test of faith. “What are you waiting for? Go!”

Grouper gulped, and turned slowly back to face the gaping hole in the water. He took a step in, and nothing happened. He ignored the way the cavern seemed to breathe, and took another step. Then another. Gideon chuckled darkly – he didn’t need something special to enter the cave.

The water gave out an almighty roar, and the satyr squealed. Gideon winced – he spoke too soon. The water crashed down, beating against Grouper, and the fire flared up once again and claimed the satyr’s body. He screamed, and the water tugged on him, dragging him to the bottom of the fiery pool.

The two halves of the triangle were spat out, and the light in the water fizzled out with one final warning. “ _Seek out the diamonds in the rough_.”

Gideon screamed in frustration, dragging his hands through his hair and pulling out thick tufts of white. “I can’t believe this! I can not  _believe_  this! I am  _never_  gonna get a hold of this  _stupid lamp_!”

Two halves of a whole? What did that even mean? Who could possibly be worth more than a cave full of treasure. Two diamonds in the rough? Twins?

Gideon froze, fist half way to punching a tree, and a devious smile stretched across his face. “Twins?” He giggled, bringing his hand up to his mouth as he realised exactly what he would need.  _Who_  he would need. “Looks like I’m gonna have to pay a visit to my favourite childhood toys.”

 

.

.           .

 

“Stop!” a voice thundered, and almost all of the people on the street faltered, glancing over their shoulders at the large man bounding down the pavement, pushing people out of his way. “Stop those thieving brats!” The man commanded again, pointing at two figures running a few metres ahead of him.

The twins exchanged a glance as they ran from the man, grinning at his frustrated bellows. Skidding around a corner and into a deserted street, Dipper leapt up and pulled the fire escape ladder down. Mabel climbed up first, Dipper at her heels, and the man cried out in anger when he saw where they were headed. 

They reached the top of the building and threw themselves over the ledge, breathing hard. Dipper reached out and squeezed his sister’s hand, and she grinned as they regained their footing and ran to the edge of the roof. “Ready?” She laughed, the pavement below coming into sight.

“No!” Dipper yelled back, laughing just as loud, and they jumped.

Dipper screamed as they soared through the air, his shirt whipping him in the face and his hat flying off his head. Mabel’s scream matched his perfectly, and the hand that wasn’t holding tightly to her brother’s was pressed against her thigh, holding her skirt down. A few people stopped to stare, but most of the town’s residents blotted them out – the Pines twins made enough of a nuisance of themselves that most had grown numb to it in the 17 years they’d been alive.

The cloth top of a market stall broke their fall, and they bounced off of it, rolling to the side and crashing to the ground in a fit of giggles as the man who had chased them scowled down from the flat shop roof. “I’ll get you one day, you lousy brats!” He yelled, shaking his fist a little, and Mabel poked her tongue out at him as her brother erupted in laughter.

They breathed heavily for a moment, sprawled in the dirt, the corner of Dipper’s notebook jabbing into his hip with every shaky inhale. Mabel’s arms were wrapped around her bag, and she stroked it possessively.

“Did you get it?” Dipper asked.

The girl grinned, dipping her hand into the bag and pulling out a stone amulet, “You know it.”

Dipper let his head fall back as he let out a sigh of relief. It had taken over a month of planning to pull of this heist, and while he didn’t like to take things from people, he did like to feed him family. And with this, he’d be able to do so for months.

Dipper and Mabel had been fending for themselves since their guardians – their Great Uncles, Ford and Stan - had left them to go on a hunt for buried treasure. They had promised to be back before the rise of the new moon. But the end of the lunar cycle came and went, as did the next, and the next.

At the end of every month for the three years that followed, both kids stayed seated on the roof of their house all night long, waiting for the two men to stride round the corner, laughing and punching each other like they’d never been gone.

They never did.

Mabel let out an audible gasp, and Dipper frowned up at her. When had she stood up? “Mabel?” She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were glued to a spot just past his line of sight. Before he could arch his neck to take a look, Mabel had hurtled off towards where she’d been looking, dropping her bag on Dipper’s face as she took off.

Jumping to his feet, Dipper slung the bag over a shoulder and stepped out on to the street, just in time to see Mabel throw herself in front of a cowering child, a horse reared up in front of her. 

“Out of my way, you vile creatures!” The man on the horse snarled.

“Mabel!” Dipper cried out, and tackled his sister, knocking her and the child out of the way before a whip could crack down on her arm.

They rolled to the side of the road, and the child that would have been trampled – had Mabel not intervened – scurried off, muttering to itself. Mabel gasped for breath, and Dipper scoured her body for injuries.

Content when he found none, he turned to the man, who was riding away from them with a smug lilt to his shoulders. “Hey!” Dipper yelled, standing and glaring at his back. “Why don’t you use all that money in your pocket to buy yourself some manners?”

The man flinched. He reared his horse around and levelled Dipper with a sneer, his black hair falling over his eye. “I’ll teach _you_ some manners!” He snarled. He pulled a sword out of its sheath just far enough to blind Dipper with the light reflected off it. When Dipper brought a hand up to cover his eyes the man barked a laugh, sliding the sword back down, and he turned away once again.

But Dipper was having none of it. Extending a hand to his sister, he pulled her up, keeping their hands joined. “Look at that, Mabel! It’s not every day you see a horse with two assholes!”

Dipper smirked when he saw the man blanch, but it fell off his face when the man turned his horse around, the creature whining in pain, cold fury in its rider’s eyes. “ _You”_ he spat _,_  “are a rat worth less than my horse’s shit!” He seemed to be glaring at everyone on the street at once. “You were born a rat and you will die a rat, and when you die, only your fleas will mourn you!”

Dipper gritted his teeth and took a step forward, but Mabel’s hand in his pulled him back. “He’s not worth it,” she mumbled, eyes cast to the ground, and Dipper gaped at her with disbelief. She squeezed his hand, biting her lip, and he sighed, standing down. He understood. A man like that - his pride was worth more than their lives put together, and if he saw fit to have them locked away, they’d never see the light of day again.

“Okay,” Dipper sighed, and moved to stand behind her.

The man barked a laugh and turned away from them, slicing the whip through the air to raise dust from the floor. The sound startled the horse into moving forwards, and the man glanced over his shoulder one last time, “That’s what I thought.”

It seemed forever before the man rounded the corner of the street, made longer by the fact that everyone froze to watch him go. As soon as he was out of sight, though, the hustle and bustle resumed again, and Mabel dragged Dipper to stand against a wall to avoid being trampled by passers by. “Who did that guy think he was?” Dipper growled in frustration, hands clenched into fists, and Mabel rolled her eyes.

“He was just another of the princess’ suitors,” she said. She got a hazy look in her eye when she mentioned her – she’d always been curious about the palace. Awed by its grandeur. She’d give  _anything_  to see inside.

“Another one?” Dipper asked. “That girl must be hard work if this many men have tried and failed to impress her.” Mabel slapped his shoulder at that, and he laughed. “What? Aren’t these rich types raised to believe that guys are  _supposed_  to act like that? If they are and she doesn’t like them, then she  _must_  be a handful.”

Mabel frowned, “Just because she doesn’t like any of those guys doesn’t make her hard work. It makes her smart. And  _strong_.”

Dipper grinned at the admiration in his sister’s voice. “Yeah yeah, I know. Now lets go and sell this thing before the shop guy comes back for us!”

Mabel grinned back, grabbing the bag off Dipper’s shoulder and sliding it on to her own. She swept her hand through the air to gesture Dipper forward with a flourish and a bow, “After you, good sir.”

Dipper laughed, dropping into a curtsey, pulling at the corners of his shirt as if they were the bottom half of a gown. “Thank you, my lady.”

 

.

.           .

 

The door slammed shut behind Prince Robbie, and Preston Northwest roared in frustration. “Pacifica! Come here at once!” The blonde girl hurried quickly into the room, swooping into a low curtsey at her father’s feet. He grunted, and she took that as a sign to straighten up. She ran through the checklist in her mind as he gave her a once over. Hair – up. Dress – smooth. Back – straight.

She was okay.

“Why, _exactly_ , did I just watch Prince Robbie scramble out of here like a frightened lamb?” His face was going red with rage, and he fought himself to keep his hands balled at his sides.

His daughter flinched at the volume of his voice, taking a step away from him. It took her a second to regain her composure, and when she did, she said, “His gift was inadequate. So I told him I cannot be bought with wealth alone.”

Her father grew redder in the face, so much so he was almost purple, and she wondered if there was any blood left in the rest of his body. “What did he give you?” He asked, his voice a terse whisper.

“A bag of jewels,” she snorted, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest.

“A bag of jewels?” Preston roared. “What’s wrong with that? That’s a perfectly satisfactory gift! What more could you want?”

Pacifica rolled her eyes, but when she saw the look her father gave her, she ducked her head. “Is it so much to ask to receive a gift from the heart? Something that took time and effort and consideration? Something that tells me that they want me for the person I-”

“You seem to be forgetting,” Preston growled, interrupting, “that you are not a person! You are a princess and you are a tool to connect our kingdom with another. You will choose one of the Princes we have set out for you to marry or I will choose one for you! Is that clear?”

Pacifica was practically cowering in front of her father, to hell with her straight posture, and her voice was a whisper when she said, “Yes sir. I understand.”

Preston smiled, all sharp teeth and venom. “Good. Now go fix your hair. You don’t want to be looking like  _that_  when the next Prince visits for supper, do you?”

Pacifica shook her head. “No, sir.”

Pacifica backed away from her father, turning on her heel at the door and making her way to her room. Preston sighed when she disappeared, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“You certainly do have a way with children,” a thick voice drawled from across the room, and Preston spun around.

“Gideon? I didn’t expect you to be here today.”

“Oh, I finished my errands early so I came back.” Gideon said with a saccharine smile. “Besides, I can pay a visit to my favourite royal family, can’t I? Though, maybe I came at a bad time. It looks like she’s being quite the disobedient child today.”

Preston laughed. “Yes, well. She says that she wants a marriage with someone who _loves_ her. Child is too naïve to even realise that there is no such thing as love in this world.”

Gideon giggled, “Well I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Preston raised an eyebrow, and Gideon continued. “I was thinking that perhaps I could have a try at courting the princess? You know I’d treat her right.”

Preston stared at the man for a few moments, not sure if he was being serious or not. Gideon showed no sign of having made a joke. The king laughed loudly, his voice like rolling thunder. “ _You_?” Gideon’s face flushed red with anger and embarrassment, and Preston judged it as the second. “I’m sorry, Gideon,” he chucked, trying not to laugh, “but you’re not nobility. You’d have to conquer a kingdom before I’d allow you to marry my daughter.”

Preston clapped his hand on the man’s shoulder as he walked past him, still chuckling to himself, and Gideon resisted the urge to growl as he watched the king exit the room.

When he was sure Preston was gone, Gideon’s eyes turned sinister, his plan knitting itself together in his mind, and he grinned. “I just might do that, Preston Northwest. _I just might_.”

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica dashed through the courtyard of the Northwest Palace, avoiding the glass lanterns that cast hazy circles of luminescence throughout the yard. Her usual dress had been swapped out for a dark skirt and a loose shirt, and with no make up or jewellery or beautifully styled hair, she bore no resemblance to the Princess her family once knew.

A guard rounded the corner, and Pacifica ducked under the cover of the shadows, waiting for him to pass. She took a deep breath as she watched him scan the yard for intruders, hoping she had placed herself deep enough into the darkness to not be seen. She was absolutely  _giddy_  with excitement and terror – she couldn’t  _believe_  she was going to do this. It would take all of her courage – in fact, it already had. But every time she thought about turning back she would glance down at her arms, at all of the hand-shaped bruises, imprints of the discipline her father had handed out. And she knew she was doing the right thing, for her and her people. This kingdom deserved a just and fair ruler, not her father, and certainly not any of the douchebag Prince’s he’d arranged for her to meet.

Once the guard had disappeared back inside the palace, Pacifica sprinted across the last stretch of grass and threw herself at a large tree with thick, low hanging branches. She stood on her toes and gripped the highest branch she could reach, pulling herself up into the tree and grunting with the exertion. It didn’t take her long to climb high enough to be able to see the kingdom over the wall lining the garden, and she cast one last glance at the palace behind her. She sighed at all of the memories that flooded her mind at the sight - the good from before her father had ascended to the throne and the bad from after. She flung herself over the wall, landing with a thud on the other side of her entire life.

She ran away. And she didn’t look back. There was nothing left for her there, anyway.

 

.

.           .

 

It was another bright, sunny day in the kingdom of Gravity Falls, and Dipper and Mabel grinned down at the marketplace below. “Where are we hitting first?” Mabel asked, smiling deviously at her brother, who was perched on the wall beside her.

“Where do you want to go first?” Dipper asked back, not taking his eyes off the police patrolling the streets. There seemed to be more of them than usual today, though he couldn’t figure out why. The only time there were this many guards out was when there was a royal visit. And he would know if one of those was going on today – there’d be a lot of nobles to rob.

“I really fancy some...” Mabel drawled, scanning the stalls, “watermelon.” She decided.

Dipper grinned. “Alright then.” He swung to the side and slid down the wooden ladder, ignoring the splinters that dug into his palms, and flashed his sister a thumbs up. “Set ‘im free!”

She saluted him and reached to the side, pulling on a rope that lifted a small wooden crate just a few feet off the floor – but it was enough. A large pink pig scrambled out of the box, and started waddling stealthily down the street, oinking urgently at the people who stopped long enough to stare.

“Stop that pig!” Mabel yelled, throwing herself down from the roof and giving chase.

A few shop owners looked up at this, saw the pig, and of course started chasing after it as well. If they could catch it, they’d be fed for half a year. Mabel never worried that someone else might catch her beloved pig, though – she always got him back. Dipper smirked when the watermelon salesman followed his sister, leaving his stall unattended, and Dipper quickly grabbed one from the pile and dropped it into his bag. He snatched a couple of apples for good measure, too, stuffing them into the small space left above the melon.

He turned on his heel and walked casually back into the alley he had been in only a minute before, just in time to see a plump pig round the corner, followed closely by his sister. Waddles trotted right back into his crate, flopping down into the straw, and Dipper grinned at his sister. “Nice going, sis.”

She bowed, “A’thank you.”

They secured Waddles’ crate and Dipper tossed him an apple through the bars, then he climbed back up the ladder after his sister. They sat on the edge of the roof with their legs hanging over the edge, staring out at the streets of the town. Mabel sliced through the melon with a thick knife, and handed the biggest half to her brother, her face already dripping with pink juice as she licked her fingers clean. “Breakfast is served!” She announced, turning to place the knife back in her bag, and when she did Dipper switched his melon half for hers.

They sat there for a few moments, content to watch the people below. There were so many merchants in the streets, selling food and clothing and jewellery – it was hard not to be fascinated with it all. Dipper smiled at a child helping her father carry a blanket across the street, then frowned as a short man cut the purse away from another man’s belt. It seemed hypocritical for him to look down on thieves, but he and Mabel took barely enough to survive. That man took because he enjoyed it. 

“Hey, Dipper,” Mabel said, pointing down at the street. “Who’s that?”

Dipper rolled his eyes, “Mabel, you can’t possibly know every person in Gravity Falls.” He looked anyway, following his sister’s finger to a girl weaving her way through the street.

Unlike many of the girls in the Falls, she wore a floor-length skirt and an ill fitting shirt, held close to her body by a thick brown belt. Her blonde hair fell out behind her back, swishing in the wind, and her eyes were wide with wonder and apprehension. He could see why Mabel had picked up on her so easily – she stuck out like a sore thumb. Her clothes were expensive but messy, as if she’d spent money on them then purposely sullied them. Dipper rolled his eyes – she was probably a noble trying to avoid getting mugged by dressing like a pauper.

“Pretty lady!” A scrawny merchant called out to her, and she gasped in surprise. “Buy a pot in brass or silver!” He called after her as she walked by, smiling pleasantly at his wares.

“Sugar dates!” Another man called, handing a small round fruit to the girl. “Sugar dates and pistachios!” She smiled but shook her head, laying the morsel back down on a pile full of others.

She crossed over to the other side of the street, still glancing around with wide eyes at all the wonderful things the stores had to offer. “Pretty necklace for a pretty lady?” A man asked, holding a string of beads up to the girl’s neck.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the girl answered, backing away from the salesman. Dipper squinted at her, and realised with a jolt that what he’d mistaken for a smile was actually a sneer.

The girl looked disgusted.

“She’s not from around here,” Dipper mused, and he heard Mabel hum in agreement as they both continued to watch her.

The blonde backed away from a man waving a fish in her face, straight into one of the guards. She yelped as he turned on her, backing away from him, and he peered at her with suspicion. “Do I know you?”

“Uh oh,” Mabel’s lips turned down with concerned curiosity, and she leaned forward to watch the scene play out. “This can’t be good.”

“Oh! Um, no!” The girl replied, a bit too fast, and the guard narrowed his eyes at her. “This is my first time in town,” She explained. The guard wasn’t buying it - Dipper could tell - and the girl tried to smile up at the man, who was inching closer, backing her against a wall. Dipper saw a spark in her eyes, which he instantly recognised as fear, and he bit his lip.

Mabel leaned forward some more, her hands over her mouth as she watched the way the guard eyed the girl. Mabel gave the blonde a once over, her eyes gleaming and- oh no. Dipper knew that look all too well. It was the same look Mabel had given every guy they’d seen back when they were kids. He raised an eyebrow at the way her eyes seemed to sparkle with a thousand stars as they drank in the sight of the blonde girl. 

Dipper looked away from his sister. He felt like he was intruding on a private matter. It was a good thing he did, too. Mabel was so enamoured with the girl that she hadn’t noticed how close to her the guard had come. It was obvious that he was coming close to placing her face, and any second now he would figure it out. When that moment came, blondie was a goner. After all, if a guard knew her face, she was a criminal. Not a very good one, if she’d been caught, but a criminal none the less.

Dipper clambered to his feet and grabbed the back of Mabel’s jumper, pulling her back an inch or three. She frowned up at him, that lovelost light gone from her eyes, “What?”

“Get any closer and you’ll fall,” Dipper warned, and Mabel blushed at the double meaning in his words. “Come on. As soon as he figures out who she is, she’s done for. We’d better go get her before she loses her head.” Dipper sighed, rubbing his neck with sympathy, “Literally.”

Mabel nodded, accepting her brother’s outstretched hand and standing up. The two hurried down the ladder and across the street.

“Guard!” Dipper yelled, rushing over. He noticed the look of abject horror on the girl’s face and he nodded at her, subtly shooting her a wink. “Thank goodness you found her!” He exclaimed to the guard, then to the girl, “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“What the-?” She mouthed, but had the good sense to keep quiet when Mabel held a finger up to her own lips.

The guard turned slowly, eyebrows furrowed, “You know this girl?”

“Yes,” Dipper explained, while Mabel made her way over to the girl, wrapping her hand around the blonde’s upper arm. “She’s our cousin,” Dipper continued, wrapping am arm around the guard’s shoulder and turning him away from the two girls. He waved his hand behind his back, signalling for Mabel to take the girl away from the main street. “It’s her first day in the kingdom so she’s not registered yet. We were taking her to The Watch when we lost her.”

The guard frowned, “I could have sworn I’ve seen her before,” he mused, turning back to look at the retreating girls. 

“A lot of people say that. It’s because she’s blonde – they all look the same, don’t they?” Dipper offered up, visibly relaxing when the guard started nodding.

“Yeah, I suppose they do.” He clapped Dipper on the back a couple of times, “Well, alright, kid. Don’t forget to sign that register, now!”

“I won’t,” Dipper smiled, glad that he’d gotten one of the stupider guards. “Have a good day now!” He called, and ran down the street after the girls.

When he caught up he grabbed both of them by the sleeves, tugging them into an alley. The girl broke his hold on her fairly easily, and Dipper raised an eyebrow at her. “Who are you?” He asked. 

Her eyes blew wide with shock. “Who am I? You just kidnapped me and you’re asking me who I am?” She backed away from the twins, burrowing as far into a corner as she could get. “What do you want from me? Gold? Jewels?” 

Mabel took a step towards the girl, but froze when the blonde flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Mabel said softly, reaching a hand out but then pulling it back, thinking better of it. “My brother and I saw the way you were looking at that guard and figured you may need a rescue. I just want to know if something’s wrong, and if we can help you.”

The blonde looked from Dipper to Mabel and back again, something indescribable and altogether heart-wrenching in her eyes. “You wanted to help me?” She asked, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. Dipper frowned at this. Had she never been offered help before? Been shown kindness? Dipper thought about how lucky he was to have Mabel – a lot of kids grew up without that. Maybe this girl was one of them?

Mabel must have thought the same thing, because the next second she was pulling the girl into a tight hug. The blonde looked taken aback for a moment before she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms tightly around Mabel’s waist and burying her head in the crook of the her neck.

“Come on,” Mabel said, pulling away from the girl and threading their fingers together. “Come home with us. We can talk there.”

 

.

.           .

 

Gideon stared into the pool of water, the green magic swirling around in the liquid, searching for the answers he needed. “Waters of then and now,” he breathed, his words infused with magic. “Tell me, how can I get Mabel and Dipper Pines to do my bidding?”

The green continued to swirl in the clear liquid, the separate arms of colour moving with varying degrees of ferocity and fervency. The tendrils of green shifted, flying out into smaller strands of blue and pink and purple, weaving together to form a perfectly clear image.

Dipper Pines sat on a green armchair, a notebook resting on his knee. He nodded as he hurriedly scrawled on the pad, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. His stupid hat was pulled down over his forehead, hiding the equally dumb birthmark from view. He wore a tshirt and shorts and an unbuttoned blue flannel shirt – at least he had finally gotten over that horrendous poof jacket. Gideon growled at the boy, before a flicker of movement at Dipper’s side caught his attention.

On the floor next to her brother’s feet sat Mabel Pines. Her long brown hair was twisted into a braid that fell over one shoulder, obscuring the message on her trademark sweater. She chewed on her sleeve, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Her trousered legs were drawn in to her chest, and she rested her chin on one of them. Gideon sighed contentedly when he saw her smile sweetly at someone – he had long since gotten over his childhood crush, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming want to own her, to be her everything, to break her and then rebuild her as his own.

Gideon looked to the last person in the room, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. Sitting there, on the ratty old arm chair of the Pines Residence, was none other than Princess Pacifica Northwest.

A slow grin tugged at his lips and he slashed his hand through the picture, cutting all three of them in half. He knew exactly what to do.

“Guards!” Gideon yelled, “Guards!" 

Two footmen burst through the door, “Master Gideon? What’s wrong?”

Gideon forced himself not to giggle with glee, forcing his expression to remain grim. “I’ve found out who kidnapped the Princess,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sometimes I see one film and BAM! - I go nuts. Please tell me what you think!!


	2. The Golden Cave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update, guys!! My friend came over on Friday morning and he didn't leave until Sunday night!! I won't take this long again

Pacifica had agreed to go home with the girl and boy, though she had no idea why. They were twins, she’d gathered that much herself, but that was about all she knew about them. The two didn’t seem to know who she was – if they did, they were doing a pretty great job of hiding it. But she couldn’t help but wonder what they wanted from her, if not her father’s wealth.

The brunette girl dragged Pacifica down the street, her warm - but thankfully not sweaty hand - gripping Pacifica’s tightly, and the blonde wasn’t sure whether she should wriggle free or hold tighter. It felt… nice? The cheery girl smiled brightly at her as they walked, somehow managing not to steer them into anyone despite not watching where she was going. Her teeth were a little crooked, and there was a small gap between the two in the front, and they somehow managed to add to the girl’s charm rather than take away from it.

Pacifica watched the way she moved, her long skirt swishing around her legs with every step she took. She was thin, her shoulders and hips narrow and her arms long. Tresses of thick brown curls reached the bottom of her spine, falling in choppy layers that stuck out in every direction imaginable, defying gravity. Every couple of minutes the girl would pat the hairs that fell over her neck, her shoulders sinking with the loss of tension when she found that her hair still covered it. _What could she be hiding_ , Pacifica wondered, before dismissing the thought completely, because really it was none of her business.

“Oh my gosh!” The girl gasped suddenly, her hand squeezing Pacifica’s for a split second, snapping the blonde away from her thoughts. “I totally forgot to tell you our names!” She slapped herself in the head with that last word, snorting a little as she laughed at herself. “My name’s Mabel!” She grinned, “And old grumpy guts behind us is my brother, Dipper!”

Pacifica cast a look over her shoulder at the boy. For some reason he was carrying a large crate containing a pig, and looked to be struggling with it. He was shorter than his sister, his shoulders broader. They didn’t really look alike, she marvelled. They had the same nose and eyes and mouths and jaws, but they held themselves differently. Pacifica shifted her eyes to the crate, and bit her lip when she saw the almost cheerful way the pink animal looked at her – she hoped the twins weren’t planning to eat him.

“So what’s your name?” Mabel asked, reclaiming Pacifica’s attention, and the blonde girl flinched.

If Mabel noticed, she didn’t say anything, and the princess took a deep breath before saying, “Pacifica.”

Mabel’s eyes widened as she gasped, and Pacifica bit her tongue - she shouldn’t have told the truth. What if Mabel called the guards? Sent her back to the castle? She eyed Mabel warily, terrified that the girl would favour the friendship of the king and queen over the girl she found in the marketplace. She felt panic welling up inside her, fear coiling in her gut as her heart beat faster and faster, so hard it made her shirt shake. She glanced around her, looking for any escape routes. There were none. The twins had her cornered. Maybe that was their intention from the start; maybe they've always know who she is.

“You have the same name as the princess!” Mabel exclaimed, stars lighting up her eyes.

Pacifica released the breath she’d been holding, the tension slipping away from her body in an instant. “I do?”

Mabel nodded enthusiastically, “Yep! Gosh – I’d _love_ to meet the princess. I bet she’s _so_ beautiful! And imagine all the pretty clothes she must wear! And the _food_ she’d get to eat! And the _palace_ ~ I’d give _anything_ to go inside, just for a moment.” 

Pacifica snorted, pretending the flush that crept to her cheeks when the girl inadvertently said she was beautiful wasn’t there. They were moving forward again, and she couldn’t ignore the way her fingers intertwined with Mabel’s, sweat building between their flush skin. It didn't bother her. “It really doesn’t sound all that great.” Pacifica mused, “I mean, she probably has people telling how to act, how to speak, how to dress. She’d have to marry a prince, and if she didn’t like him then she’d never get the chance to fall in love. It sounds awful!”

Mabel’s smiling eyes had turned curious, wistful as she stared at the blonde, and Pacifica’s breath caught in her throat. In the sun, Mabel’s dark eyes shifted to the lightest brown, caged in by an almost black barrier around her iris. Pacifica marvelled that everything was in there, like a toy box of emotion: curiosity, joy, wonder, hope. All swirling around in a colour so profound and sincere that Pacifica felt that if she stared for long enough she might just fall in.

Pacifica was so enamoured in the other girl that she barely noticed the hand slipping out of her grasp, the cold evening air stinging skin that had once been both too hot and not hot enough. “We’re here!” Mabel sang, skipping up a set of wooden stairs and turning back to Pacifica, her arms stretched wide. “Home sweet home!”

“Finally!” Dipper groaned at Pacifica’s side, making the girl jump as he dropped the crate. Flicking the latch so the pig could run free, he let out a yawn, “I’m knackered.”

“This is where you live?” Pacifica asked, staring up at the decrepit building before her with wide blue eyes. A few of the tiles had slipped off the roof, leaving holes in their place that had been feebly covered over with sheets of metal and planks of wood. The wooden walls were mismatched where repair work had been done, nails sticking out of the wooden panels in all directions like the spindly twigs from a branch in the kingdom of a book Pacifica had once loved. There was a beaten up sofa on the porch, alongside a rocking chair and a chess table strewn with homemade pieces, a bag of yarn tucked safely away from the weather underneath.

“Yepperoni!” Mabel grinned, running down the steps to take Pacifica’s hand once again and drag her through the unlocked door.

The inside of the house was a lot less beaten up, almost homely, and Mabel stuffed Pacifica into a threadbare armchair. The overstuffed cushion sank almost a foot deeper under her weight, and she had to shift around a little to make herself comfortable. Artwork adorned the papered walls, each piece signed by one M. Pines. Pacifica wondered if they were Mabel’s – they were good. There were some odd stains on the green carpet that Pacifica didn’t want to think about, so she turned her attention to the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine standing before her. “Can I get you anything?” Said ray asked, smiling sheepishly at the blonde. She almost looked embarrassed, though Pacifica couldn’t place why.

Pacifica swallowed a lump in her throat, only now realising how dry it was. She opened her mouth to ask for some water when a low growl came from her stomach, a sharp pain splitting it in half. She frowned – so _that_ was what it felt like to be hungry.

Mabel grinned, “Dipper’s going to go make dinner now,” she said, sinking to the ground at Pacifica’s feet. “In the meantime~” She sang, shoving her hand into her bag, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she rummaged around, “Here!” She pulled an apple out of the bag and held it up for the blonde. When Pacifica didn’t immediately take it, Mabel huffed and grabbed her wrist, pressing the apple into the palm of her hand, “It’s not gonna bite, ya silly goose! Eat it!”

Mabel let go of the girl’s wrist and grabbed her own apple, biting into it and spraying juice across her flushed cheeks. She wiped it away with a sleeve, staring up at Pacifica as she chewed. “Where are you from, anyway?”

Pacifica looked down at the apple in her hands, manicured nails tapping idly against the red skin. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “I ran away, and I’m never going back.”

Mabel’s eyes widened as she took another bite of her apple, not waiting until she’d swallowed to ask, “You ran away from home?” 

Pacifica breathed a harsh laugh, “Escaped, more like. It was horrible there.” 

“Why?”

“Oh, would you look at that!” A cheerful voice chuckled, “She didn’t tell you!”

“Gideon?!” Both Mabel and Pacifica cried as they turned to look to the voice, Mabel leaping to her feet. The two girls looked back to each other, “ _You_ know Gideon? How?”

“Now, now, ladies. No need for synchronised theatrics. I think it’s safe to say that everyone in this town knows little ol’ me,” the boy said, strolling into the room like he owned the place. He took a seat on the sofa, “Mabel, darlin’, be a dear and go get that brother of yours. We need to have a discussion.”

Mabel bit her lip and backed away from Gideon. He was bigger than he had been when she was a kid. He was a couple of years older than she and Dipper, but he’d always been small – small enough to pass as a child when he’d been sixteen. He was bigger now, and his presence filled the room, pressing down on Mabel and threatening to crush her, to back her into a corner, out of existence even. He smiled at her, but something about the way his eyes squinted and his dimples dug into his cheeks and his freckles stood out against the ghostly pallor of his skin made his once adorable face cruel and menacing.

When she reached the door she turned her back on him and darted to the kitchen, where Dipper stood completely oblivious, prodding at something in a saucepan. When Mabel slid into the room, almost crashing into the table in her haste, he turned to raise an eyebrow at her over his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

Something about the way her usually rosy cheeks were bleached of colour unnerved him, and Dipper turned off the stove and faced her. “Mabel? What’s wrong?”

A deep breath. “Gideon,” she breathed.

Dipper’s warm eyes hardened with hatred, and for a moment Mabel saw the reckless urge to protect she usually associated with their Grunkle Stan. “Where?” He ground out through gritted teeth, and Mabel shuddered at his tone, drowned in blind rage.

“In the living room, with Pacifica,” Mabel said, her voice stronger now. She gasped, “Poop! Pacifica!”

In a flash, Mabel was storming back to the room, Dipper hot on her heels. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, and the colour was rising back to her face, an angry red rather than a rosy pink. She shoved the door open with her shoulder and marched right up to where Gideon was leaning over Pacifica, who had shrunk back so far into the armchair Mabel could barely see her.

Mabel tapped Gideon on the shoulder, and he turned slowly, a lazy smile easing it’s way onto his face. It made Mabel sick. The man was over a foot taller than the girl, but her glare threatened to shrink him down to the size he’d been five years ago. Gideon looked over Mabel’s head, choosing to give Dipper a once over. “Dipper Pines, it _has_ been a while, hasn’t it?”

Dipper’s hands curled into fists in his pockets, “What do you want?”

Gideon brought a hand up to his chest, “Who? Me? Why, I seek only to enlighten you on your situation is all.”

Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed, and it was Mabel’s turn to ask, “What situation?”

Gideon giggled, stepping away from the girl to reveal Pacifica’s form behind him. She didn’t look too pleased with his being here, either, though Mabel had no idea why. She couldn’t possibly have met him already – she was new to town. “Why, your situation with little Pacifica Northwest, of course.” 

Mabel’s eyes shifted from Gideon to Pacifica, her blood running cold. “Northwest? As in _Northwest,_ Northwest?" 

Pacifica gulped, forcing herself to nod stiffly.

“Dipper, may I have a private word with you?” Gideon asked, his voice slicing through the tension in the room like a knife to butter.

“Anything you have to say, you can say to all of us.” Dipper remarked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow defiantly.

Gideon chucked at that, “Oh I do love it when you try to act like you’re not scared of me, Pines.”

Dipper snorted at that, “It’s not an act, _trust me_.”

For a brief moment shock registered itself on Gideon’s face, but it was gone as fast as it came. “Well anyway! As long as we’re all being honest, I suppose I have a little confession to make.” Gideon’s face contorted into a perfect façade of guilt, making use of the skills he’d acquired as a young con man so many years ago. “You see, there are thirty guards outside of this property, just waiting for me to call them in. I’m sure you know that kidnapping the princess is _not_ a very smart thing to do, the reason being that if you do it you’re gonna lose your head. Literally.”

Dipper ground his teeth, but made no move to say or do anything. 

“So, here’s what I would like to propose. I can tell the guards that I was mistaken. That the princess is not here and they can go home and the search for your new little friend can continue as far from here as possible.”

“If?” Dipper asked.

“If…” Gideon paused, “You and your sister retrieve something for me. Something worth more than all of your lives combined.”

Dipper laughed, but there was no humour in it. “And where do you expect us to find something like that?”

“Oh, I already know where it is, Dipper Pines. I just need someone to go and get it. Nice and easy. I get my lamp, you and your sister get your princess, she gets to live out the remainder of her days as she pleases – though I have _no idea_ why she would want to live like… _you people_. Everybody’s happy.”

There was silence in the room.

Gideon chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking smug as he eyed the other three – he could see everything that was thrumming through their little heads. He was going to win this round, and the next. And then he was going to win the game.

Pacifica was still sat on the armchair, her eyes cast down at her feet – she had seen the way Mabel had looked at her, every trace of that wonder and joy gone. She felt like she had betrayed her oldest friend, and the way it made her heart claw its way up her throat made her eyes sting as she fought back an onslaught of tears.

Mabel had turned to look at her brother, eyes pleading. If Pacifica really was the princess, they had to help her. Everything she’d said about what she imagined life at the palace being must have been true, and that was no way for anyone to have to live. They couldn’t offer her much, Mabel knew that, but she would give everything she had to make up for all those years of suffering the princess must have endured.

And Dipper stared straight at Gideon. He knew there was no choice, not really. If he refused to do what Gideon asked, they’d be thrown in prison for high treason. And even if they managed to escape, they’d be hunted for the rest of their lives. They’d never sleep in peace again. Not to mention that life with Mabel would become impossible; she would never forgive him for imprisoning her- _the_ princess.

“Okay,” Dipper sighed, “We’ll do it”. He couldn’t believe he and his sister had managed to get themselves tangled up with Gideon _again_.

Gideon grinned, “Excellent.”

 

.

.           .

 

The wind streaked through the forest, weaponizing Mabel’s hair into a whip as it was thrown from side to side, stinging her face and Dipper’s arms as it slapped them. Gideon stood just ahead of them, ploughing through the greenery and letting leaves and branches rocket back and lash the twins. The cold night air wrapped around them, chilling them to the bone, each agonising step away from the warmth of home tearing their spirits apart. Even Mabel had stopped spouting her cheerful nonsense, knowing that nothing she could say would make this journey any less unbearable.

Gideon tore a branch off of a tree trunk and tossed it behind him, and Dipper hoped out of the way just in time to avoid being hit in the face with it. He shot a glare at Gideon, but it slipped off his face when he saw what was over Gideon’s shoulder. “We made it!” Gideon yelled, fighting to be heard over the howling wind. He stepped out from the forest into the clearing, Dipper and Mabel following closely behind him. 

As soon as they were out of the tree line and under the stars staring down on the clearing, the wind ceased. In fact, everything ceased. There was no sound, no wind, no light – nothing from the outside. It was like this clearing was the only thing in this world. Like the second they’d stepped inside, the end of everything else had been brought upon the earth. Dipper patted his fringe back down to cover his birthmark, and Mabel wound her hair into a rope, securing it with an elastic band.

“Whoa,” Mabel breathed, stars in her eyes, and Dipper followed her line of sight to a waterfall pouring blue flames into a pit of fire, dancing across the surface of a serene lagoon. A cavernous mouth had formed on the surface of the water, blue flames flowing like water swirling around the mouth and cascading down an invisible staircase. Just above the centre of the mouth floated a golden triangle, every inch of it succumbed to the flames but for an oval at the centre. Dipper felt a sense of déjà vu as the flameless eye stared down at him, but he shook it off.

Turning to face Gideon, Dipper asked, “What do we do?”

Gideon glanced at the pool, apprehension drawn on his brow when he looked back at Dipper. “Just walk in. Find the lamp, then get out.” When Dipper made no move, Gideon narrowed his eyes and asked, quite condescendingly, “Do you think you can manage that, Pines?”

Dipper huffed, “Yes. C’mon Mabel.” Dipper grabbed his sister’s hand, and the two of them headed to the pool. Mabel was still looking around the clearing, awed by its supernatural beauty. Dipper was focusing on the cave. In, lamp, out. In, lamp, out. He repeated it in his head, trying not to think of how this whole thing worked. He knew it was magic, it had to be, but he’d never been this close to it before. He wondered if Mabel _really_ had to come, too. He’d feel a lot better about this whole thing if she could stay behind.

Dipper’s foot slid under the water, stopping against something hard nearly a meter above the rocks below. Mabel stepped in next, and when she did the flames wrapping themselves around the cave walls flared up. The fire didn’t burn the twins, though it did singe their clothes, even under the water. Dipper frowned at that, but continued on the descent, dragging his twin behind him.

The stairs went on for metres and metres, winding and twisting and dipping deeper and deeper under the water. A few drips came from the wet arch above their heads, but the water never once came crashing down, to Dipper’s constant relief. He had almost been sure that this was all another of Gideon’s ridiculous plans to off them, once and for all. Though he doubted the man would resort to _magic_ to do so.

The twins finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, after hours upon seconds of walking through the cave. There was a long hallway stretching forward, and at the end of it, a large golden door. Dipper ran his hand along the inside of the triangular entrance, his fingers gliding languidly over the solid gold. “Mabel, look at all of this!” The boy gasped, stepping through the doorway to leave room for his sister to pass through after him.

Mabel’s eyes glistened with wonder as she eyed the room. Mountainous piles of gold and jewels, necklaces and rings and chunks of gems and crystals, archways made of solid gold, pyramids and statues towering tens of feet over their heads. She smiled brightly, skimming her hands over the rocks, shining in the brightness of the blue flames and casting marvellous shapes of light over every surface.

“Just a handful of this stuff would make us richer than the Northwest’s,” she mused to herself, scooping up a palm full of gold coins and letting them trickle back down into the intricate wooden chest. At the mention of the Northwest’s, her expression turned sour and her mind turned to Pacifica. “Come on, bro-bro. We’ve got to go find that lamp.”

She walked slowly through the cave, still marvelling at the piles of solid gold swords and jugs and statues and chests as big as she. The ground beneath her feet was gold and the ceiling above her head was gold and it was so beautiful she wished she had some way of preserving the image forever. She could always paint it when she got home, but she wouldn’t be able to do it justice. She feared that nothing could capture the beauty all around her.

A deep rumble resonated through the cave, and Dipper frowned. “Do you think we should get moving, Mabes? This place does _not_ seem stable.”

Mabel nodded, noting how some of the smaller golden objects were slipping down the piles, the small sound of jingling change echoing around them.

They walked faster through the mounds of gold, through another triangular, sapphire encrusted door, and into a stone room. Large grey pillars held up stone slabs, rock pyramids floating a few inches above them. No mounds of gold were scattered along the floor, just deep carvings of triangles cut through the stone, a bright blue light spilling out of them and illuminating the room.

Lines of gold embedded in the stony floor formed a glistening path from the doorway. It led to a fifty-foot frustum on the other side of the room, a blue beam cast down upon it’s flat top. Under the blue beam there was a podium. Light, reflected off the object placed upon it, pierced his eyes when Dipper tried to look at it, but even without seeing it he knew that it was the lamp.

“Do you think I should-?”

“No, I’ll go,” Dipper interrupted her, moving forward. He had only moved a few steps before Mabel ran after him, determination in her eyes. He stopped, turning to face his sister. “Mabel. _Please_ wait here.” 

“Nope!” She said cheerily, and Dipper wondered if this was all a joke to her; if she was blind to the real danger surrounding them right now.

“I don’t know what will happen when I take it. This whole place could fall apart!”

Mabel smiled then. “If it does, we’ll get out of it together. Just like we always do.” She moved forward, a spring in her step, and Dipper rolled his eyes. She was right. They had been through so much together, there was no way a little cave and _Gideon Gleeful_ was going to stand in their way. “You coming bro?” She called, neither slowing nor turning to face Dipper. A small smile wound its way onto his face, and he ran after her.

By the time he caught up, she was standing at the bottom of a large staircase. The frustum looked even larger from this position, and Dipper gulped, his mind racing a mile a minute to produce all of the ways this could go wrong in rapid succession. “You sure you’re not still afraid of heights? Because I would totally understand if you wanted to stay down here.”

“Pshaw! And leave you have all the fun? Nopedy dope! Come on!” She bounded up the stairs two at a time, and Dipper cried out in surprise, running up after her.

She reached the top first, and his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. He counted one hundred and seventy four steps – fifty threes and twelve twos. He thought about those numbers instead of his highly excitable sister, and he only realised his mistake when he glanced up and saw her fingers reaching out for the handle of the lamp.

“Mabel, wait-!”

It was too late. Mabel’s fingers wrapped around the lamp’s handle, and she pulled it off the pedestal. Dipper’s eyes flew wide as the rumbling in the cave grew louder, and he was in front of Mabel before he could even process that he was moving. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward so anything that fell from above would hit him, not her.

His grip tight around her shoulders, he steeled himself for impact and waited. And waited. And waited. And nothing happened. The walls didn’t start moving in on them, water didn’t rise from holes in the ground and the ceiling didn’t cave in on them. There was just… nothing.

“You know, bro-bro,” Mabel spoke up, her shoulders wiggling tensely under the weight of Dipper’s arms. “I’m always up for hugs, but now really doesn’t feel like the time-”

“Of course!” Dipper exclaimed, pulling himself away from his sister and snatching the lamp in the process, tucking it into his bag and flipping the leather flap shut. “Can we go now? Gideon isn’t particularly patient – I don’t want to see what happens if we keep him waiting.” 

Mabel frowned, eyeing her brother with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

The two quickly made their way back through the cave, this time ignoring the vast wealth surrounding them in favour of staring straight ahead of them, eager to get to the exit and never go back. There was something heavy about the air now that they had the lamp, pushing down on them and filling their chests with the dull sensation of needing to vomit. Dipper figured that it was just because of exhaustion that he was finding it hard to breathe, and his bag on his shoulder seemed to way as much as he did.

When they reached the top of the staircase, Gideon was waiting for them. He sat on the grass, his blazer protecting his trousers from the wet ground, but when he saw Mabel and Dipper clambering out of the cave, he got up. Walking over to them, his presence making the air around them weigh even more, his face split into a grin, teeth seeming pointed and dangerous. “Did you get it?”

Dipper frowned, “We said we would, didn’t we? Here,” Dipper rummaged around in his bag until his fingers brushed against the cool gold of the lamp, and he pulled it out.

Gideon immediately snatched the lamp away from Dipper, his large body seeming to curve around the golden artefact, his red eyes shining bright with joy. It took him a moment to realise that the twins were still there, now staring at him a bit funnily, and he sneered at them. “You can go now,” he stated blankly, tucking the lamp into his waistband.

Dipper stared at the bulge the lamp made in his trousers. He really didn’t think that letting Gideon have the lamp was a good idea. But _Mabel_ \- it was the lamp or Pacifica, Gideon or Mabel, and there was really no choice over who he would pick. It was his sister, every time.

Dipper nodded and raised an arm, brushing Mabel’s dishevelled hair over the exposed birthmark on the nape of her neck, covering it over for her. She smiled up at him, “Let’s go home, bro-bro.”

 

.

.           .

 

The Pines twins disappeared behind the tree line, and Gideon made sure to wait a few more minutes after they left before casting a small spell, separating what was outside the clearing from what was within it for the second time that night. The flaming waterfall still cast a bright light over everything, though it was less noticeable now that the sun had started to rise. Gideon guessed he had only a few more hours before his absence from the palace would become suspicious.

He set to work.

He placed the lamp on the floor and sat down next to it, pulling a book out of his pocket and thumbing through it until he reached the correct page. He looked from the book to the artefact and back again, his smile growing as he noticed the intricate details of the lamp and how they perfectly matched the details of the drawing in his book. This was the one he’d been looking for.

Setting the book down, Gideon lifted the lamp, and placed his finger against the gold. It was beautiful, there was no denying it, with triangle after triangle engraved around the rim of the lid and down the flat outside of the handle, each shape smaller than the last as it neared the spot where the handle tapered to a point. Etched into the side of the lamp was another triangle, though this one was more complex than the others. At the centre of the triangle was an eye, a stretched pupil staring out into the world. Directly under the eye was a bowtie, and directly above floated a top hat, two arms spring from the parallel sides and two legs hanging from the base line. Gideon swiped his finger down to this inscription and traced his finger around the edges of the triangle.

The lamp grew hot in Gideon’s hand, the gleaming gold transforming into a flaming blue. The metal vibrated against the man’s skin with enough force to shake his entire torso. Gideon snatched his hands away from the burning metal, and it stayed in place, hovering and shaking in front of Gideon’s face. He scrambled back a few metres, trying to escape the waves of heat pulsating from the lamp, but there was nowhere far enough away. Blue smoke began billowing from the spout, pouring out in a thick fog and engulfing the clearing, masking the ground from view. 

Gideon cried out as a black cloud spilled out of the lamp, thicker and more obtuse than the smoke and dotted with flecks of light exactly like the stars above. This black, shapeless smog rose higher into the air, bending and tightening and twisting and convulsing to form a simple dark shape.

A triangle.

A dark, mocking laughter poured out from the shape, taking over the entire clearing as another shape took form on top of the black – an eye with a split pupil. The eye blinked a few times, the pupil glancing around at its surroundings as the eye twitched with the resonating laughter. When the eye locked on to Gideon, two arms and legs popped out from the triangle, and a top hat materialised above its head – point? A gold flash shot sparks an inch from the black form as a bowtie and brick pattern were etched into it, glowing blue for a second before dulling down to a bright white.

The form blinked at Gideon, still sat on the floor with a shocked expression pasted over his paler-than-normal face. With a pop, the triangle’s colours inverted, the black turning yellow and the white to black, and it floated down to hover a few feet away from Gideon, circling him slowly. _Predatorialy._

“A-are you the genie of the lamp?” Gideon finally managed to stutter out, drawing his knees to his chest as the feeling of being watched burned at the back of his neck, so intense and prevailing that it threatened to crush him.

“That’d be me, kid. Name’s Bill Cipher.” The triangle crossed its ankles, leaning back on thin air and eyeing Gideon with an air of condensation. “And who are you?”

Gideon rose to his feet slowly, puffing out his chest and balling his hands into fists at his sides in mock bravery. “I am Gideon Gleeful.” He spoke proudly, every trace of nerves and fear gone as he levelled the genie with a cold stare. “And I am your new master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill's here!!!!!!
> 
> ALSO: I finally have a name for this thing!!!! Special thanks to unorthodoxoutline.tumblr.com who helped me come up with it - free hugs for you forever <3 <3
> 
> ALSO also, thank you all so much for reading and kudos-ing and bookmarking and especially commenting!! I didn't expect many people to read this, let alone like it, so thank you so much for everything!!! I love you all!!!


	3. Bill Cipher

“My name is Gideon Gleeful!” The boy yelled, staring up at the triangular entity in front of him. “And I am your new master!”

Bill rolled his eye, “Okay. What do you want?”

If he could shake his head, he would – why did he always get picked up by children who didn’t know the full extent of the power they were dealing with? It was always the same – I am your new master, you are under my command, bow down to me, demon! Really, why couldn’t it just be in, wish, out. It would make his job so much easier.

“Uh…” the boy drawled stupidly, mouth hanging agape as he searched his mind for something else to say. “You’re not going to resist?” He asked, eyeing Bill dubiously. “You’re just gonna… give me what I want?”

“Yes.” Bill answered, in a tone he usually reserved for snarking those more powerful than he, not that there were many of those left. When Gideon continued to stare it him with disbelief, Bill sighed, “You rubbed my lamp, didn’t you?”

Gideon blinked a few times before he realised that he actually was being asked a question, and he spluttered, “Um. Yes, I did! I rubbed your lamp!” 

Bill eyed the boy with distaste – his last master hadn’t been this much of a wimp, and she was six! Than again, maybe this boy was just smart enough to realise that he was a real threat, which was good. He liked it when they were afraid of him; it was more fun that way. He noticed the way the boy’s heart beat frantically in his chest, and he frowned. Maybe he was being a bit too hard on the kid – he had been told he was a bit of a grouch when he’d just woken up.

Maybe this ‘Gideon’ wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Okay then! I’m at your command! Get on with it!” Bill exclaimed, a drop of his impatience making it into his word, despite his attempts to force a bit more cheer into his voice than he would have liked – the kid had better be grateful after all of this extra effort. “What do you want? You get three wishes, but I don’t resurrect the dead, kill people, make people fall in love with _other_ people _OR_ grant you more wishes. Got it, kid?” 

Gideon nodded, “Yes! Uh…” He seemed to contemplate his choices, and Bill forced his eye not to roll of its own volition. Why did people never know what they were going to wish for? It wasn’t even like they only got one wish – they got three! Bill knew exactly what he would wish for, if genies could grant wishes for others of their kind, that was. “I want you to…” Gideon bit his lip, “To…”

Nope, Bill decided, this kid _was_ just _really annoying_.

Patience wearing thin, Bill finished the boy’s sentence for him. “Turn you into a cat?” He clicked his fingers, and a ball of blue fire bounced along the grass and landed on Gideon’s leg. The boy screamed as the fire crept up his body, the flames catching on to his clothes and spreading quickly across his chest and arms, shrinking him down. He screamed even louder when he realised that it was him sinking lower and not Bill rising higher, and he patted frantically at the flames, as if that was going to do anything. 

After another three seconds of undulated screaming, Gideon was less than a foot tall, his white hair sprouted all over his body and his blue suit fitting his tiny kitten body perfectly. Gideon meowed frantically at Bill, and the genie could see the panic rolling off his small furry body in waves. He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll turn you back! But don’t waste any more of my time, shortstack!”

Bill snapped his fingers again and the small white cat’s limbs began to elongate, its fur shedding and falling away in thick white clumps as the boy’s figure grew more like it had been before. He looked terrified now, his hands visibly shaking, and Bill smirked inside his head - the kid _finally_ understood what he was capable of, and as an added bonus, he seemed to understand how Bill could get when he was _done_ with _waiting_. 

Bill had already been out of the lamp for ten minutes, and he hadn’t seen a single thing of the world yet. Seven hundred years he’d been trapped in that lamp – he had _seven centuries_ of human history to catch up on! He wanted to see if his last master had made good on his promise to invent a sweet snack made out of corn, and he couldn’t do hat until this brat had made his damn wishes. Gideon glared up at Bill, angrily swiping cat hair off of his suit, and Bill rolled his eye again. “First wish – go!”

Gideon chewed on his lip. He had planned to do away with Dipper and Mabel once and for all with his first wish, but if the genie was against killing then that wasn’t going to happen. With that in mind, Gideon peered up at the genie through short white lashes, and settled for the next best thing. “I wish you would make the lives of Mabel and Dipper Pines miserable until the end of time!” He commanded.

Bill stared down at the kid, metaphorical eyebrow raised expectantly, since he didn’t actually have any eyebrows. Or a face. He'd have to fix that some time. He tried his best not to laugh when the boy yelled out his wish, unbeknownst to him giving the genie a free pass at the rest of the world. As soon as he was done with Gideon’s other two wishes, now that he’d been released from that infernal lamp, he could do anything he could think of – that was, if no one succeeded to stuff him back into his golden prison… again. Bill grinned in his mind as the boy stared into Bill’s eye, apprehension playing at the back of his red eyes. 

“Done!” Bill yelled, clapping his hands together. Fire sparked out from the clashing palms, the flamed crawling up Bill’s thin black arms and catching on to the rest of his body, muting his yellow with sparkling blue.

“And make yourself look human, before you give someone a heart attack!” Gideon yelled after him, and Bill had just enough time before the fire had completely taken over his body to reach out a large black hand and flick the kid in the stomach, knocking him flat on his ass.

 

.

.           .

 

 

“Dipper, we have to save Pacifica,” Mabel cried, legs drawn close to her chest and puffy red-rimmed eyes threatening to spill tears down her even redder cheeks. “She’s all alone in there! And if they know she ran away, who knows what they’ll do to her! She must be _so scared_.”

Dipper ran a hand through Mabel’s hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, biting the nails of the other as he thought over the night’s events.

When they had finally made it home, the sky was light, the birds in the trees singing brightly as the sun rose over the mountaintops adding to the serenity that seamlessly contrasted every second of the twins’ evening up to this point. They had almost fallen through the front door, so enamoured with being home and _this close_ to their beds that their exhausted minds hadn’t noticed how easily they’d gotten in.

The front door was open.

Mabel had groggily walked through to the living room, apologising to Pacifica for being late before she even realised the blonde was gone. She frowned when Pacifica wasn’t there, or in the kitchen, or the bathroom, _or_ the small area that had acted as a shop back when their Grunkles still ran the place. Assuming that Pacifica had simply made her way upstairs, Mabel wandered up after her. She poked her head into every room, even climbed the ladder up to the basement, but there was no sign of the girl anywhere.

Panic finally setting in, Mabel ran downstairs, yelling the other girl’s name as she made her way back to the kitchen. She had found Dipper there, fast asleep with his head in the open refrigerator, cheek resting against a cold glass shelf. Mabel frantically shook him awake, not bothering to think that this was the first time she’d seen her brother sleep in _days_. When he peeled his eyes open groggily, staring up at a blurry Mabel, he was unable to see the pure dread written across her features.

When he heard her feeble sniffles, though, he was wide awake. He slammed the fridge door and grabbed Mabel’s shoulders, urging her to tell him what was wrong, and when she said that Pacifica was gone, his blood ran cold – Gideon had double crossed them. _Again!_

He had carted her into the living room and shoved her down on the sofa, hurriedly making her a cup of coffee and taking it in to her, hoping that the extra heap of sugar he’d dumped into it would lift her spirits enough for her to not have a total break down.

And that was where they were now. 

Mabel was cradling the cup of coffee in her sweatered hands, staring hard at the wall across from her as she leaned against her brother, who was trying to think of a way - _any_ way - out of this mess.

Dipper chewed on his nails in the absence of a good pen. “We’re going to get her back, Mabel.” He assured, “But we have to be smart about it.” Dipper said, taking his hand away from his mouth and wiping the residual spit on to his trouser legs. “We can’t just knock on the front door and demand to have her back.” 

Mabel sniffed, “I know.” She bit her lower lip, gazing up at her brother with wide, worried eyes, a small glimmer of hope gracing the deep brown. “So, what’re we going to do? You have a plan, right?” 

Dipper smirked, “Well that all depends - do you still have that grappling hook?” 

Mabel’s pouting lips stretched out in to a broad smile, and she grinned up at her brother, nodding frantically. Letting the empty coffee mug slip from her fingers and fall to the floor, she leapt off the sofa. She dashed out of the room, and Dipper heard her feet thundering up the stairs, faltering only once when Dipper assumed her sock slid against the wood. He shook his head as he let out a soft laugh.

Picking up the coffee mug and rising from the sofa, his back popped back into place with a number of clicks that was, frankly, alarming for a boy of his age. He moved through to the kitchen, dumping the mug in to the sink and grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it lightly from one hand to another before sinking his teeth into it.

He wondered what would happen with Pacifica. He knew Mabel liked her, that much was obvious, though the way Mabel looked at the blonde was _different_ , somehow, to the way she’d looked upon the others. But Pacifica? Mabel had told him time and time again that she had only ever had male suitors, though he doubted that the King would be inclined to allow his daughter to meet any females – they had an image to maintain, after all. Pacifica _could_ like Mabel – his sister had been nothing but kind to the girl, and their personalities _did_ seem to compliment each other – but what if she didn’t? He didn’t want Mabel to get hurt…

He shook his head, looking at the half eaten apple in his hand. If Mabel wanted anything with Pacifica, she would have to figure it out herself. He was not going to meddle in her personal life, just like Mabel had promised not to meddle in his, after some… lets call them _awkward_ blind dates. And no matter what, he was _not_ going to leave Pacifica at the mercy of both the King _and_ Gideon.

Sighing, Dipper walked to the foot of the stairs and leaned against the bannister, calling up, “Mabel? You found it yet?”

“Yeah!” She yelled back down, and Dipper heard her run across the overhead floorboards to stand at her bedroom door. “I’m just getting into some more suitable clothes. I doubt I could break into the palace wearing a skirt and sweater!” She laughed then, and Dipper heard his sister’s feet trot from one side of the ceiling to the other, where he knew from years of living with the girl that her not-sweater clothes were kept. He rolled his eyes – if Mabel wanted to play dress-up, he was not going to get killed by standing in her way 

Dipper looked down at his own attire – black jeans and a blue and green flannel shirt. His jeans were a little too small, even after Mabel had made them a few inches bigger to leave him room to grow, and they clung to his legs like a second skin. His brown hiking boots were worn and muddy, and this time just a tad too big, but again they served their purpose, and that was good enough for him. His shirt had belonged to his Grunkle Ford, and while that was too big for him too, it was comfortable, so it wasn’t too much of a concern.

Noticing that he was still holding the apple core in his hand, Dipper sighed and decided to throw it on the compost heap. He walked through the front door. 

And into the kitchen.

He frowned, glancing behind him at the open back door and then in front of him at the kitchen. He shook his head, “That fridge must’ve done something to my brain,” he muttered, as he walked back through the house and out the front door.

And again, he was back in the kitchen.

Eyebrows furrowing, Dipper took a different approach and walked through the back door. 

Only to end up at the foot of the stairs.

“What the-?” Then a little louder, “Mabel!”

A second later the girl was bounding down the stairs, Grunkle Ford’s brown coat billowing out behind her. She had on a black t-shirt over black jeans that hugged her legs, the trousers tucked in to black knee-high boots. The long brown coat flared out around her knees, it’s light fabric swirling around her thighs with every step. Wrapped diagonally around her hips she had a black leather belt, a thigh sheath barely holding on to the grappling hook she'd stuffed into it attached to the belt.

“What do you think?” She asked merrily, jumping off the last stair with a twirl, her long coat slapping against her thighs as she did so. Her smile was bright as she struck a pose, placing her hands on her waist and grinning darkly, “Is this an outfit to take over the world in or what?”

Dipper breathed a startled gasp through his nose, panic making his heart beat faster as he was asked about _fashion_. “Uh… the black will help you blend in with the shadows?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “What’s this problem, broski?”

Dipper’s expression became dire. “We can’t leave.”

Mabel’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean we can’t leave?” She asked, her hands falling away from her waist as her fingers thrummed against the sides of her thighs – a nervous habit.

Dipper realised that she had thought he meant that they weren’t going for Pacifica, and his eyes blew wide as he tried to dispel the look of fear in her eyes. “No no no! I mean, we’re still going to get Pacifica,” he stated, and Mabel’s shoulders relaxed in relief. “I mean that we physically cannot leave this house.”

Eyebrows furrowing again, she wrapped a hand around Dipper’s forearm and tugged him to the side, stepping through the front door. She disappeared as soon as her foot touched the other side of the doorframe, and Dipper deflated – he had hoped it had only been him affected by whatever the hell this was - that, or he was imagining the whole thing. Mabel reappeared through the door, a curious frown on her face. She dragged in a breath, eyebrows gracing her hairline as she said, “I see what you mean.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes, hoisting himself up to sit on the key table next to the door. “I just don’t see how this is possible,” he mused, staring down at his swinging feet. “Unless…”

Dipper thought back to the clearing, thinking of the way the cave functioned and how there was no scientific way for it to do so. He remembered thinking that it might have something to do with magic – that _Gideon_ had something to do with magic. But would he really go that far? Risk all that he had, for _that?_ Gideon was the king’s ward; he spent his life in the palace. It would only take _one_ wandering servant to catch him practicing, and his life would be over. But then again, he was _the king’s ward_ – no one would believe a mere servant over his own word. If anything, his position in the palace would make it _easier_ for him to practice magic.

“Dipper, hey!” Mabel yelled, clicking her fingers in front of Dipper’s cloudy eyes. “Wake up!” She called, and Dipper blinked, swatting her waving hand away from his face. He raised an eyebrow at her and she levelled him with a focused stare, “Unless what, Dipper?”

“Gideon,” Dipper stated, and the girl flinched, recoiling back a few steps. “Mabel, I could have sworn that he was using it earlier today.” He took a deep breath, knowing what a heavy accusation was going to come next, “Magic. What if he-?”

“No.” Mabel cut him off. She shook her head, taking solid steps backwards until she hit the table behind her, sinking down to perch on the edge. “Just… no, Dipper. Gideon is a buttface, and I would gladly push him into the bottomless pit without a _second thought_ if given the opportunity, but _Magic_? I just don’t think he’s the type to go _that far_.”

A high-pitched laughter resonated around the room. It cackled menacingly as a cloud of black smoke bubbled out from thin air before them, twisting and turning into a dark shape just above the foot of the stairs. “Then you need to think again, kid!”

“What the-?” Dipper mouthed to his sister.

“Wha-?” Mabel yelled back.

The dark form laughed, the writhing carving and moulding its edges until the shape was almost humanoid, the blackness splitting into colour as bright yellows and whites and browns replaced the cloud. With a pop, the last of the cloud diminished, and out of it stepped a man. “Heh heh! Name’s Bill Cipher!” He said with a cheerful grin, his voice deeper than it had been when it had poured from the cloud, “Gideon sent me here to torment you until the end of time!”

Dipper and Mabel stared.

The man had dark skin, made to look darker by the bright yellow hair spilling down the side of his golden-freckled face, the thick blonde waves sticking up in all directions like perfectly styled bedhead. The loose curls were swept to the side, falling over one eye, but not completely enough to hide that unlike the visible golden one, this eye was black, the glowing blue outline of a triangle replacing an iris and pupil at the centre. Thick black lashes framed them, looking a little like dark eyeliner, and Dipper gulped when he realised that those eyes were focused on him.

Bill grinned, stepping quickly towards Dipper and leaning over the boy. His whole body pressed closer to the boy’s than Dipper was really comfortable with, as the man stared at something just over Dipper’s shoulder. “Oh, look!” Bill exclaimed, his hot breath ghosting over Dipper’s ear and sending shivers down his spine. “An adorable family photo!” Bill moved away from Dipper, and the boy released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. The man smiled down at a photo of Mabel, Dipper and their Grunkle Stan, the three of them sitting in a boat and grinning widely at the camera.

And then he lobbed it against a wall. “Oops!”

Dipper rubbed his hand against his forehead, eyeing the man in front of him with suspicion. “The cold must have done more to my head than I thought,” he muttered.

Mabel shook her head, “No, I see him too.” 

The man grinned, “So anyway!” He sat down on a table opposite Dipper’s, crossing his legs and laying laced together fingers on one knee. “Where were you going before I got here?” He looked from Dipper to Mabel and back again, an expectant smile gracing his lips. “I mean, _obviously_ I have to stop it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious!”

Mabel gave him a once over, her eyes narrowing in on his as she slowly said, “We were going to rescue Pa-”

“Mabel!” Dipper cut her off quickly, hopping down from his table and darting across the room to stand beside her. “Don’t tell him what we’re planning! He might go tell Gideon,” he whispered roughly into her ear.

Bill spluttered a laugh, “The runt with the pompadour? Not likely!” 

Dipper looked at the man out of the corner of his eye. Obviously he had magic, and on top of that, he was in cahoots with Gideon. He could be the source of all the magic that Gideon apparently had access to, or he could be an addition to it. Either way, he and Mabel couldn’t trust him. “We still can’t trust him, Mabel.” He voiced.

“Don’t be so boring, Pine Tree!” Dipper curled his lip – pine tree? “I won’t tell Gideon, okay? I _promise_.”

“ _We’re going to rescue Pacifica Northwest from the evil clutches of her father_!” Mabel blurted, shooting the words out like a bullet from a gun, before Dipper could even think to stop her.

Bill raised an eyebrow, “The Princess?” He gave the two a once over, eyebrows furrowing when he noticed the similarities between them now that they were stood together – twins? That was never a good sign. “That’s not gonna be easy, you know? Though, I could _make it_ easy,” Bill pulled his hand away from his chin as blue flames crawled around his fingers and slid down to the palm of his hand like a warm caress, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, “if you’d like.”

Dipper’s eyes widened when he saw the fire, grabbing Mabel by the forearm and pulling her behind him on reflex. His eyes narrowed on the man, daring him to try anything. 

“Oh _wow_!” Bill grinned, vaulting himself off the table and moving to circle the two almost predatorily. “The overbearing brother and the free spirit sister routine! Haven’t seen that in a few millennia. Somehow it’s even more annoying than I remember it!”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at ‘a few millennia’, spinning around along with the man to keep a firm barricade between him and his sister. “What are you?”

Bill bounced backwards a bit, leaning back on his heels to give Dipper an unsure stare, “I didn’t tell you?” Dipper shook his head. “Oh! I must have forgot- I’m a genie, kid!”

Dipper raised a dubious eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “A genie.” Bill didn’t expect them to believe that, did he?

Apparently he did, and Mabel bought right into it. She grabbed Dipper’s arm and swung herself around him, darting forwards so she was right in front of Bill, staring up at his impressive height with wonder in her eyes. “A genie?! The kind with wishes and stuff?”

Bill grinned, “The very same.” He held up his hand, three fingers splayed out, a small blue flame hovering over each digit. “Three wishes! No resurrection, no making people fall in love and _no_ wishing for more wishes.”

Dipper frowned at that, eyeing over the triangular buttons on the man’s waistcoat and the golden outline of a triangle hanging from his ear, partially hidden by his messy hair. Bill definitely had a thing for threes, and it reminded Dipper of all the triangles back at the cave – did Bill have something to do with that place?

“Cool!” Mabel grinned, grabbing one of Bill’s wrists and inspecting the golden band wrapped around it with wide eyes. He frowned and pulled his hand back from her a little warily, and she didn’t notice the look that flashed across his face. But Dipper did. “Can you turn my grappling hook pink?” She asked, pulling the launcher out of its holster and holding it out to him.

Bill grinned and poked the grey metal of the device, bright blue flames spreading out from his fingertip, sliding over the gunmetal grey and leaving it a bubble gum pink. Dipper’s eyes blew wide as Mabel starred down at her improved grappling hook, mumbling to herself about how much better it would look with a coat of glitter. Bill smiled at his handiwork, “Odd thing to wish for, but who am I to judge?”

Dipper raised a finger in protest, “Uh,” Bill’s eyes slid away from Mabel and latched on to Dipper, smile folding itself into a smirk. “She didn’t wish for that.” Dipper said.

The smirk dropped off Bill’s face, his lips parting and eyes narrowing in on Dipper. The boy gulped, and the genie burst out laughing. “I like you kid! Wow, that has _not_ happened before!” He sobered up after a few seconds, eyes burning holes into Dipper as he raised a finger to point at him, “But no more freebies, okay?”

Dipper breathed a laugh, “Right.” He looked over Bill’s shoulder at his sister, still staring down at her pink grappling hook with buckets full of joy in her eyes – it sure didn’t look like Bill was trying to torment them. It almost looked like he was trying to win them over – especially with Mabel’s free wish. “So, uh…” Dipper started, staring down at his toes, “What did Gideon wish for you to do? Exactly?”

Bill beamed, “To make your lives miserable until the end of time.” 

Dipper raised an eyebrow, remembering something he saw scrawled across a plaque back in the cave. “But… time isn’t real.” He bit his lip, hoping that he was right and that Bill really did have something to do with that place.

Bill eyed him for a second, then grinned, surprised that the kid had managed to figure out the loophole fast. He _had_ to find out who told him that time wasn’t real, though – he wasn’t supposed to know that. “I’ve got to give it to you, Pine Tree – you’re smarter than you look!”

A smile twitched at Dipper’s lips, but it faded the second Bill’s grin fell down into a sombre frown, “Which is exactly why you should know that you and the glitter fairly over there-” he inclined his head to Mabel “-cannot go for that Princess tonight.” Dipper frowned at his sister, who was now pointing her hook at things and making gun sounds as she pretended to fire it at things. “You’re going to fail,” Bill warned. 

Dipper cast a glance at Mabel, and she caught his eye, their Grunkle’s signature mischievous gleam running through it. Recognising the look, she stood slowly, clipping her grappling hook back into its sheath and walking over to her brother. “So, when _should_ we go?” Dipper asked.

Bill smirked, the fire once again beginning to flourish at his fingertips and crawl up his arm, “Why don’t you wish for me to tell you?”

Dipper glanced at Mabel, and she bit her lip, the look in her eyes saying exactly what Dipper was hoping to hear: _showtime._ Dipper frowned, drawling, “Hm… I don’t know…”

Mabel picked up where he left off, “I mean, you can’t be _that_ great a genie-”

Dipper turned on his heel, walking to the other side of his sister as he explained, “You can’t even uphold a simple wish like making us miserable for the rest of our lives.”

“Honestly," the girl said, "I _think_ we’d be better off going to rescue Pacifica _our way_.” Mabel finished, circling back around her brother while she nodded a little condescendingly, bowing her head so that her hair hid the smile growing on her face.

Bill eyed the two, disbelief and a dash of rage sparking behind his golden eye. “I’m sorry,” he began, the fire fizzling away from his fingers as he chuckled darkly to himself, his head bowing down as the younger of the twins’ eyes stayed focused on him. His gaze flashed back up to Dipper, trapping him with his glare. “What.” That syllable echoed around the room, and Dipper forced himself not to flinch away from it.

Dipper forced back any thoughts of regret in his head when he was the enraged look in the other man’s eye. “Thanks,” Dipper said, holding Bill’s stare, his voice thankfully a lot stronger than he expected it to be, “But no thanks.”

Bill laughed again, the deep sound making Dipper want to shrink back inside of himself. He held his ground. “You… _doubt_ , my power?” Bill asked, almost silently, his hair and clothes tingeing red and his smile stretching and twisting up into an inhuman grin.

Two things happened at once; Dipper shrugged nonchalantly, and he realised that that was _the wrong thing to do_.

Bill’s fire exploded around him. Cool blue flickered to an angry red as he scowled at Dipper, thankfully focusing all his rage on the boy rather than his sister. “ **Fine**!” He roared, raising a hand and allowing dark red flames to rise up from it, leaving two small slips of card in his palm. He took a few steps towards Dipper and the boy backed up a step, trying to escape the heat of the flames before he realised that there was none - cold fire.

“ _Here_ ,” Bill growled, shoving the papers against Dipper’s chest and knocking the boy back a step. Dipper frowned down at the papers, briefly registering the words ‘ball’ and ‘princess’ before two fingers were shoved under his chin, yanking his head upwards so that he was staring Bill in the eyes, the other’s nose barely an inch from his own. “A party is being thrown to celebrate the return of the princess,” he explained, his booming voice wrapping around Dipper’s whole body, holding him in place. “If you sneak in with the other guests, _no one will suspect a thing_!”

Dipper blinked a few times. He stared up at the genie with a dumb look, just long enough for Mabel to slip behind him and take the papers before his gaping mouth morphed itself into a small smile. If he was honest, he hadn’t expected that to work so well. “Whoa, thanks,” Dipper said, tugging his chin out of the genies grasp and side stepping him, leaving the genie frozen in his place. “I never doubted you for a second.” He smiled at Mabel and squeezed her shoulder, reassuring her that he was all right.

Every trace of red diminished from the genies body at once, and he turned slowly, staring slack-jawed at a smug looking Dipper. “You never…?” He started dumbly, trailing off with a shake of his head. When he looked back up, he had an eyebrow raised, the beginnings of a crooked smile tugging at one corner of his lips. “You played me.”

Dipper and Mabel grinned, tapping their knuckles together as Dipper said, “Like a drum.”

“Huh. ”A smirk slid across Bill’s face, “I don’t know whether to be irritated or impressed.”

Dipper shrugged, not taking his eyes off the white and gold card in his hands as he studied to intricate lettering. “Be both.”

Bill narrowed his eyes at the boy – he was… _interesting._ “I think I will,” he replied.

He ignored the way his shackles burned against his wrists.

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica sighed, leaning against the stone railing lining the balcony connected to her bedroom. Beneath her, servants were hurriedly rushing around the courtyard, positioning vases full of flowers and plates full of food everywhere they could think to place them. One particular maid caught her eye, stringing a bundle of fairy lights up in a tree and scurrying to skip across the path to drape them over another tree, connecting them like constellations.

Her chin lay gently in her gloved hand as she watched what went on below her, but her mind couldn’t seem to focus on anything for too long before it strayed back to _them_. She had been so surprised when Mabel had been kind to her and Dipper had protected her. It had been the first time in her life that she had felt human, like a real person capable of real emotion. She had felt wanted, protected, cared for - loved.

But that was all over now. That small taste she’d had of what life would be like were she not shackled to her status, the flickering simulation that she’d give anything to relive, was gone. And all because of Gideon. 

After Mabel and Dipper had gone away with him, leaving her on the armchair with nothing but a blanket and a book and a big fat pig named Waddles to keep her company, she had felt safe. So safe and warm under that frail blanket, thinner even than half of her summer outfits but still managing to be _warmer_ , that when it was ripped away from her shaking fingers she’d almost cried.

The guards that stormed into the house were quick to grab her and drag her away, their strong strides immune to her panicked insistence that she was under no real threat there. That she had _wanted_ to be there, even. Not one of those guards listened to her as she begged to be set free, to be sent back, as she promised to pay them handsomely if they could just forget that they’d ever seen her there.

Half way through the long walk back to the palace, her legs gave out and her tears broke loose, running down her face and she desperately scrubbed them away. The guards wasted no time in scooping her up, carrying her the rest of the way to her _prison_. When they’d made it back to the palace, the guards spouted some nonsense about a kidnapping, and Pacifica’s father had cupped her cheek in the most affectionate gesture he’d ever shown the girl, but his warmth was still  _nothing_ compared to the warmth and gentleness of the girl she’d been with not even two hours ago.

As she was carried to her room, her back still shuddering with sobs even though the tears had stopped falling what felt like years ago, the only thing on her mind was the warm looks Mabel gave her as they spoke. She replayed every second she spent with the girl in her mind, over and over again until it was ingrained in her very soul, and she fought back another bout of tears when she realised that she would never have something like that again.

She would be eighteen in two months, and when that fateful day came, she would be sold to the highest bidder.

She bit her lip, clamping her eyes shut as another wave of tears threatened to spill down her face. _Gideon_. It was his fault that all of this had happened to her. If he hadn’t told the guards where to look, she would still be at the twins’ run down shack right now, the warmest she’d ever been. How did he even know where she was? She shook her head, no. That was not what her mind should be dwelling on right now. She should be thinking of how she was going to escape again. Now that the number of guards surrounding the palace had doubled, it would be harder, but she could- 

She could always- 

“Well, well, well,” a voice greeted snidely, accompanied by the tip-tap of expensive shoes against a marble floor. “If it isn’t our resident runaway princess!”

Pacifica’s gloved hands curled into fists as she suppressed a shudder at the voice, her dress swirling around her legs and she spun on him. “Gideon!”

Gideon looked away from the water globe in his hand, the evil glint in his eye contradicting his sweet, dimpled smile. He placed the globe back on its shelf and crossed the room, taking Pacifica’s hands in his own and appraising her. “My, my! Don’t you look just _precious_.”

Pacifica snatched her hands away from him, her skin crawling at his close proximity. “What’s to stop me from going to my father and telling him _exactly_ what you’ve been doing?” She growled.

Gideon’s smile faltered as his eyes slid away from the girl’s, moving to stare at the few stars dotting the early evening sky. “Why, I don’t know!” He said, bringing a hand up to his cheek as he faked his innocent cluelessness, the act that she used to buy into so easily. His voice turned venomous as he said, “Maybe the thought of your dear little Mabel Pines?”

Pacifica’s eyes grew wide, her jaw tightening with rage as the girl’s name slipped out of Gideon’s slimy lips, and he looked back at the princess just in time to catch it. He giggled, pointing at her with a stubby finger. “I saw that!”

Pacifica’s eyebrows furrowed, “What’re you-?”

“I also saw the way you were lookin’ at her back at the shack!” Pacifica raised an eyebrow, and Gideon was baring his teeth through that fake smile again, “Oh don’t try to hide it, honey! You like her - nothin’ wrong with that!” 

Pacifica’s heart thrummed in her chest and she blanched, her lips falling apart to say something in her defence only to be met with a silent tongue.

“So,” Gideon continued, stepping closer to Pacifica than he already was, “if you tell your daddy about me, I’m gonna have to tell him about you, and then not only would you never see dear, sweet Mabel Pines again, you’ll never see the light of day again, either!” He leaned away from Pacifica, minty breath sliding over her skin as he breathed a sigh, “So, we understand each other?”

Pacifica gulped, her head nodding of its own volition. 

“Well, isn’t that just dandy!” Gideon turned on his heel, his cologne stinging Pacifica’s nose when she inhaled sharply. She waited until he was at the door and calling “Enjoy the party,” over his shoulder, before she let the first tear spill down her cheek – and it wasn’t from the cologne.

She shook her head again – _no!_ She was _Pacifica Northwest_. There was nothing that Gideon could do to keep her caged up in these walls. _Nothing._ She swiped a finger under her eye, collecting the moisture before it had time to create a track, and she crossed the room. If Gideon Gleeful thought he could break her, could beat her at this game, he had another thing coming – because Northwests. Never. Lose.

Pacifica floated down the stairs, her hand on the bannister trailing behind her as she made her way to the ballroom at the centre of the palace. There were already a few guests there, and more were waiting at the top of the grand entrance, yet to be announced. As soon as she stepped into the room, she was swarmed with people just itching to meet her, and she greeted them all politely, her princess perfect fake smile never leaving her lips.

After she was done with the older men, she moved on to the younger ones, flashing a small smile at her father, who had been watching the whole thing, as she pretended to enjoy their company. She danced with a few of them, getting closer and closer to the door with every waltz, until eventually she made it. Slipping through the doorway while she was sure her father was distracted, she turned on her heel and legged it up the stairs, barely managing to not stand on the hem of her skirt with every step.

When she made it out to the balcony, she breathed out a heavy sigh, leaning her back against the door to slam it shut. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she crossed the balcony, the cold night air cooling her heated skin as she took a seat upon the balcony railing. Her ears were ringing, and she had no idea how loud the music had been. So loud, even, that for a second the voices of the arriving guests below her were but a whisper. That was, until her ears adjusted.

She peeked below her feet, gripping on to the stone railing so that the vertigo from the height didn’t send her hurtling forward and plummeting down. She heard her name spoken a few times, always in a hushed tone, like her very existence was a swear word only to be whispered under one’s breath.

She scanned over the people, most of which she recognised from other formal events. After a while, the men all grew to look the same, with their slicked back hair and black suits, stiff upper lips and weak chins. But the girls! The girls were always a sight to behold, each of them with a daring dress, plummeting necklines or shortly cut skirts and bright colours complimenting their skin and hair colour. Every girl was different, and never was the same dress seen twice.

She smiled a little sadly as she saw the way the girls beamed at each other, laughing and talking hurriedly, as if everything they said had to be shot out into the world in a spitfire blast, so fast that if you blinked, you’d miss it. Secrets were whispered and jokes were yelled and snide remarks were muttered and later laughed at – it was glorious! As Pacifica continued to marvel at the ladies appearing through the wrought iron gate at the bottom of the lane, a flash of brilliant blue caught her eye, and her gaze shot to a girl halfway up the path. Her hair was falling down around her shoulders in tremulous brown curls, her arm wrapped around that of a boy just a few centimetres shorter than she. Her dress was the same blue as the midday sky, pulled tight at the waist with a silver ribbon and cascading down her long legs in a waterfall of flowing blue fabric.

For a moment, Pacifica was _livid_. No one was allowed to wear blue to the parties thrown in her honour, because that was _her_ colour. She stared down at the dress, eyes narrowing in on the girl wearing it. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had looked awful on her, but with her willowy arms and long legs it simply couldn’t have looked more _divine_. She scowled at the girl, fuming that she either didn’t _know_ or didn’t _care_ that she was not permitted to wear blue on this night. A fierce snarl rose in her throat.

Only to die on her lips. Her gaze travelled upwards, past a sweetheart neckline, past a small silver pendant, and latching on to a perfectly crooked, deliriously happy smile.

Mabel Pines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bats eyelashes hopefully* comments are always welcome darlings <3


	4. Seven Little Dots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasps* whaaaaaaat? and update?!?!?!?!? this _never_ happens!!!!

The twins sat at the kitchen table, the cold of the tile floor chilling their bodies, however it was not the cold evening air that had icy fingers scraping up Dipper’s spine. The genie hovered a few feet above the wood table, ankles crossed beneath form fitting slacks, the slightest sliver of yellow socks peeking out.

He had continued to hang around the Pines’ home, silent but for when he asked Mabel a question, often about things around the house that hadn’t been things last time he was out.

Dipper wasn’t dumb – he knew of the folklore surrounding their little kingdom, but he had always taken the myths as just that. Stories. Fables to scare the children away from straying into the forest. From the old stories that he could just barely recall - brief flickers of knowledge at the back of his mind - he knew that this genie – Bill – must be bound to a lamp. Dipper had no doubt that _that_ was why Gideon had sent them to the underwater cave, but he had no idea why the diminutive albino demon child – Stan’s description, from before he left – hadn’t gone for it himself. Everything seemed to click into place with that realisation; why Gideon hadn’t arrested them for sorcery, why Gideon had wanted them confined to their home for the remainder of their days. Dipper would have found it almost laughable, if he hadn’t been so busy worrying about other matters. He was trying just to be glad that Gideon wasn’t smart enough to untie any loopholes from his wish, and to hope that he would do the same for his next two wishes. With a mind as twisted as Gideon’s, there was no telling what he would do with-

Dipper was pulled from his thoughts by something cold pressing against his face. He flinched away from it, and a glint of gold in his periphery told him that it had been the tip of Bill’s cane – an instrument the genie had pulled from thin air, for no apparent purpose but to swing it around in his hand, narrowly avoiding poking someone’s eye out with every twitch of his wrist.

Dipper glared at the genie, who was now floating a few feet lower at eye level. He was on his back, neck bent back at an unnatural angle so that he could see Dipper. Instead of the smirk or grin or scowl the genie had sported since they’d met him, he wore a small and curious smile, and something about it was unnerving. It seemed… _wrong_. “Can I help you?” Dipper asked, harsher than he had to.

Bill’s smile twisted into a grinned, too wide and too sharp to look anything but threatening, and Dipper was annoyed that he found that reassuring. “Perhaps.” Bill rolled over, chin resting atop his palm as his gloved fingers drummed against his cheek, his elbow braced against the air below. “Tell me – what is it about you two that made my _master-”_ he spat the word like it burned his tongue “-want you to die an agonising death in this pile of debris you call a home?”

“I don’t know,” Dipper answered, “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Bill grinned at that, which only made Dipper roll his eyes. His gaze landed on Mabel, who had her hands braced against her hips, and was glaring at Dipper like he’d just told her he didn’t believe in unicorns. He’d done that once – she hadn’t spoken to him for a week. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she huffed, heading out of the kitchen with an angry sway to her step that said _follow me, we need to talk._ Dipper followed her out, but not before he heard Bill sing, “Someone’s in trouble~!”

Mabel whirled on Dipper when they were out in the hall and out of Bill’s earshot. “What was that?” She demanded, gesturing to the kitchen, not that Dipper needed any clarification on what she meant.

“I don’t know?”

Mabel sighed, “Dipper, I know you don’t trust him-” she held up a finger to silence him before he could ask how she could possibly know that, because really, Dipper didn’t trust anyone. “But you have to be nice. Not only has he already proven himself powerful enough to kill us without raising a finger, but he’s also our only hope of getting Pacifica back.”

Dipper nodded – he understood, really. He had no idea how Pacifica had managed to become so important to Mabel so quickly, but she had, and it was Dipper’s duty as her brother to make sure that Mabel was as happy as she could be, and if that meant that he had to play nice with a genie that had been ready to kill them just a few hours ago, then that’s what he was going to do.

Dipper headed back into the kitchen, and Mabel followed behind him, playfully kicking at his heels as they walked.

Bill was grinning when they returned to the kitchen, still levitating over the table, now as if he was sitting on a chair, his ankles crossed beneath him. He swung a gold pocket watch around his finger, over and over again, the chain never getting shorter. Dipper raised an eyebrow at the Bill’s look of fascination as he eyed the watch, and the genie’s grin seemed to widen as his gaze slipped over to the boy. “It’s almost time for you to get going, kid!” He said. Dipper tensed up at the name. “You should probably get on with making that wish right about now!”

Dipper glared at Bill, who Dipper had hoped had stopped trying to coerce them into making wishes after the first hour that he’d tried it had come to noting. When Mabel had asked, Bill had said something about gaining more power with every wish he granted, though the genie had refused to go into detail. Apparently he liked to be cryptic. Dipper had thought about it for a while, and decided that it was probably because he took more magic than he needed from _wherever_ magic came from, and kept what was left over. He’d never voice this theory though – too high a chance of being wrong.

“Stop trying to get us to wish for things,” Dipper scolded, then to Mabel said, “He’s right, though.” He seemed to realise something, and a look of absolute mortification crossed his face, “And we still have to make a plan! Oh God, how did I forget?” He let his head drop down into his hands. “Once we’re in we have no idea how to get out again! Oh my Gods I can’t believe I forgo-”

“Dipper,” Mabel said, her voice stern as she crossed the room to where Dipper stood and gently prised his hands away from his face. “You need to calm down, bro-bro. We don’t even know if she’ll want to come with us. You can worry about all of this later.” 

This seemed to make Dipper look up, all of the panic gone from his features as he eyed Mabel with disbelief, only in that moment realising that Mabel was just as worried as he was, though for entirely different reasons. “Of course she’s going to want to go with you, don’t be silly.” He grinned at that and poked her in the shoulder, “No need to worry about stupid things.”

Mabel took the bait, her mouth dropping open as she shrieked, “I’m the one worrying about stupid things?! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror late-” She took a deep breath, “Okay, okay, I’m calm. What do you think we should do?”

 _Make a wish, perhaps?_ Bill thought as he watched the two. _Just a suggestion._

Dipper frowned, “Do you think Pacifica would be able to find us a way out? I mean, she’s broken out of there before. It shouldn’t be too hard for her to-”

 _Stop stalling, kid!_ Bill thought again. _You know, you’re really making me wonder why I bothered to stick around in the first place._

“Bill! Stop pressuring me!” Dipper snapped at the genie. He didn’t bother to finish his sentence. Bill froze, startled, because he had _not_ said any of that out loud. He didn’t get the chance to wonder about it, though. Dipper continued with “I wish-”

“No!” Mabel stopped him.

Bill burst into flames. “Would you children please-” 

“Sorry!” Mabel squeaked, and Bill’s flames died down almost immediately. She turned to Dipper, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of Bill, and said, “I think I should do it, Dip-Dop. I don’t want you to waste your wishes on something to make me happy.”

 _Making you happy is hardly a waste of a wish_ , Dipper thought, but found himself nodding in agreement, “Okay.”

Mabel breathed a sigh, and turned back to look at Bill. “I wish to have everything we need to-”

“Finally!” Bill groaned, leaning his head back as he felt the much anticipated rush of power entering his body, ready to be converted into whatever had been wished for. Smoke began pooling from his fingertips, cerulean and streaked with electricity, and as it slunk down to the floor and began to weave itself through the house, a brilliant light shone out from it, momentarily blinding both of the twins.

Mabel’s eyes were the first to blink open, then Dipper’s, and as they looked around they found that nothing in the house was different. Dipper desperately hoped that Bill hadn’t pulled a ‘Wizard of Oz’ on them, and would reveal that they’d had all they needed to rescue Pacifica inside of them all along. Bill seemed to pick up on Dipper’s uncertainty, and he grinned at Mabel so wide she was surprised it didn’t tear his cheeks apart, “Go upstairs.”

Mabel frowned slightly at that, her head cocking curiously to the side, but she did as she was told. Turning on her heel, she turned the corner behind the kitchen door and took the stairs two at a time.

There was a light trail of blue smoke lingering over the floorboards, and Mabel followed it to her room, where it tapered to a point at the foot of a wooden wardrobe that had not been there before. Cautiously, she stepped towards the dark wood box, and warily reached a hand out to swing it open. She couldn’t help her gasp as she did so. Inside, was a dress – the most beautiful Mabel had seen. It was blue, the same shade as Bill’s fire, and long. She reached a hand out slowly, carefully, afraid that if she touched it the dress might disappear, but as her fingers ghosted down the full skirts, the dress stayed. 

She smiled brightly, and pulled the dress out of the wardrobe, holding it up to her shoulders and twirling around. Her legs got caught up in the floor-length skirt, and she tripped, landing on the floor with a thud. She grinned as she reoriented herself, and sighed heavily as she thought that it was just over an hours wait until she got to see Pacifica again.

Pacifica was broken, that much was obvious just by the look in her eyes. Mabel wasn’t surprised that Dipper hadn’t noticed it – he’d never been the most observant, but she had. The thing about a broken heart, Mabel had always thought, was that it was not something that could be fixed, it was something that had to be regrown. It needed nurturing and care to grow up healthy and good, and it was with a heavy sadness that Mabel thought of all the people whose hearts hadn’t grown back good. Gideon was one of them, she decided, long ago, and there was no saving him now.

But Pacifica – Pacifica, Mabel could save. Her heart had been broken, and it had yet to be regrown. And Mabel would make sure it grew back good if it killed her.

Mabel stretched and arm behind her back to lace the dress up, and when she was done she turned to look at herself in the mirror. The dress fit perfectly, clinging to her until it reached her waist, where it fell in blue sheets to the floor like a fabric waterfall. A ruffled sash slashed across her chest, wrapping around one shoulder to hold the dress up and, by some stroke of luck, covering the scar on her shoulder.

She tucked a few strands of hair to the side and slid some clips through the brown curls to keep them in place, then reached into the box at the foot of her bed and pulled out the leather thigh sheath, which she used as a grappling hook holster, and wrapped it around her leg. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror one last time, Mabel decided that this was it – she was ready.

She held her skirt up as she stepped slowly down the stairs, careful not to trip on the fabric, and walked silently to the kitchen. When she was just a few feet from the door, though, she heard shouting, and stopped. 

“Bill! Give it to me!” Dipper yelled, and Mabel forced herself not to smirk at her brother’s wording.

“No!” Bill said back excitedly, and laughed just a second before Mabel heard a suspicious thumping sound. She peered around the doorframe curiously, just in time for Bill to ask, “Can’t you go just one night without it?” 

Bill had hold of Dipper’s hat. Mabel grinned as Dipper jumped, arms swinging wildly as he tried to catch hold of his hat, which Bill was expertly holding just out of Dipper’s reach.

“And look!” Bill chastised, “Now you’ve messed it up!” Letting go of the hat – which stayed floating in the air – Bill reached a hand behind Dipper’s back and tugged on the waistband of his trousers.

Dipper jumped, dislodging Bill’s hand from his body in the process. “Don’t touch me there!” Dipper shrieked, “And don’t change the subject! Give me back my-” 

Mabel took this as the perfect opportunity to clear her throat, stepping into the room with a laugh-deprived rasp, “Hey.” 

His hat momentarily forgotten, Dipper took a step towards his sister. “Mabel! You look-!”

“So do you!” Mabel said with a smile, knowing exactly what Dipper was going to say. Ever since they’d been kids, they’d always known exactly what the other was thinking. There was no chance of surprise parties, or lying to each other. They couldn’t even play rock-paper-scissors. As she stepped closer, she saw the way the suit clung to Dipper’s frame. “Oh my gosh, bro, you didn’t tell me you looked like that!” Dipper looked down at the floor, hands wringing in front of him, and Mabel punched him lightly in the arm. “You ready to go?” 

“Almost,” Dipper said, his gaze shifting ever so slightly towards Bill, “just let me-” 

He jumped for the hat. 

Anticipating his move, Bill waved his hand, and the hat was set alight with brilliant blue flames, glowing brightly in the dark of the house.

Dipper’s jaw dropped, as did Mabel’s, and noticing the twin looks of utter mortification Bill cackled. “Relax, kid,” he laughed, smacking his hand against Dipper’s head and messing up his hair. “You’ll get it back. It’s just-” he thought of a way to phrase it “-taking a break from existing right now.”

He glided across the floor and out the kitchen door, swinging his cane in his hand as he whistled a tune that Mabel just barely recognised. She cast a glance over her shoulder at Dipper, but he didn’t notice her – he was too busy pout-glaring at the back of Bill’s head to pay attention to her.

She smiled slightly, hanging back to give his hand a little squeeze as he walked past her. He had no idea how much it meant to her that he would do this for her.

 

.

.           .

 

Bill’s shackles had become perpetually hot, annoyingly tingling against his skin and distracting him from what he really should have been thinking about. 

That kid had heard his thoughts.

Or at least, known what he was thinking. Either telepathy or intuition – neither of which Bill expected or was particularly pleased about. It was true that Gravity Falls had once been home to hundreds of sorcerers, the abundance of mythical creatures and creases in the veil attracting anyone with magic to the small town. But he had been sure that the ancestry of those with magical potential had been diluted so much that there were no magical humans left.

He eyed the boy in front of him warily. He had been silent since Bill had taken his hat, and every few minutes his hand would shoot up and smooth his hair down over his forehead. Bill wondered if- _No_ , he cut himself off. That was just absurd. There was no way that the kid had a mark. It just wasn’t possible. But then again, no one knew that this was his domain. According to the girl, he had been in that cave for over a thousand years. There was every chance that he had been forgotten, and if that were true then- well, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if that were true.

Eventually, Bill’s thoughts became too bothersome, and he decided that it just wouldn’t do to be worrying about something that was probably nothing. He closed the gap between himself and the boy with a few long strides – Mabel had scolded him for floating, and so he’d been forced to use his legs. He was going to end this right now.

He moved a few steps ahead of Dipper and turned around, walking backwards as he stared at the boy with a curious half-smile. It took all of five seconds for Dipper to grow annoyed with the eyes boring into him, and he turned his own to stare back at Bill, his raised eyebrow demanding an explanation.

Bill grinned, and waved a hand to summon a gust of wind. The light breeze turned forceful, only for a second, but it was long enough for Dipper’s hair to go flying back, and for the grin to slip right off Bill’s face.

The boy had a mark.

Seven small dots, nothing special unless you knew what you were looking for, were splayed across Dipper’s forehead. This was about as unlikely as a flying pig – but then, Bill had seen three of those back in the 6th Century. Bill couldn’t help but stare – this was so impossible, he didn’t even consider it a possibility. And yet, there they were, little dots glowing the faintest white as their power flared in his presence.

Bill hadn’t realised he’d stopped moving until Mabel – who had hung back a few metres – was in front of him, frowning worriedly. “Bill, are you-?”

“I’ve got to go,” Bill interrupted.

“What?” Mabel gawked, at the same time as Dipper demanded, “Why?”

But Bill was already gone.

Mabel blinked at the spot where Bill had stood, then turned to her brother. “What was that about?” She asked rhetorically when the last of the flames that had carried Bill’s body away had dispersed.

“I don’t know,” Dipper said with a frown, eyeing the scorched ground beneath the spot where Bill once stood. “He looked spooked, though, didn’t he? I didn’t think there was anything that could scare that guy.”

Mabel grinned, “Maybe it was your face.” Dipper glared at her, and she giggled, “Sorry, bro, but you left that one right open.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes, but smiled. Grunkle Stan had always said that no situation could be truly hopeless if Mabel was still able to crack a joke. She’s always been able to do that – always knew the right thing to say to calm someone down or cheer them up. When they were kids Grunkle Ford had told her that it was magic. She had been delighted, right up to the day when Ford had told her that magic wasn’t real. She didn’t speak to him for almost a month after that.

Mabel took a step closer to Dipper, reaching up to brush his fringe back over his forehead. “Big Dipper’s showing,” She explained when Dipper eyed her a little funnily, and he relaxed. Dipper hated the birthmark just as much as Mabel hated her own, and not just because as soon as people saw them they started either asking them to show everyone else, or making fun of them. They really hated the birthmarks because they were where their names came from, derived from the shapes of their marks, and they reminded the twins of their parents. They’d never met their father, and their mother had only been around long enough to hand them over to their Grunkles after they didn’t need her anymore.

Mabel had a sad little smile on, and Dipper knew that she was thinking the same thing he was. He reached over to give her hand a squeeze. “C’mon,” he said, pulling her along by their joined hands. “Princess Pacifica’s not going to save herself.”

This seemed to shake Mabel from her thoughts, and a look of determination crossed her face as she quickened her pace, storming towards the palace like her life depended on it. _And in some ways_ , Dipper thought as he watched his sister do something for the sole purpose of helping someone else, the need to make the world good and pure and whole again taking over her for the first time in who knows how long, _it did_.

They reached the castle in what Dipper judged to be just under twenty minutes, Mabel’s steps becoming faster the closer they got. He could practically feel the fortitude coming off her in waves, but instead of cheering him on, it only made him more anxious. He had become periodically more freaked out with every step closer to the palace he took, and was now sitting outside the entrance to the castle, hyperventilating. From the whispered accusations he had heard from those who passed him in their carriages or on horseback assumed that he was Pacifica’s suitor for the night, and was terrified of meeting her. They weren’t that far off the mark.

“We have to go back!” Dipper gasped suddenly, and Mabel was only just able to keep from raising her voice when she hissed a startled _‘what?’_ back. “I don’t-” Dipper started, “It’s just-” he couldn't finish. He took a deep breath, “With Bill gone, we don’t stand a chance, Mabel!” His hands were flailing around wildly, and Mabel leaned back to avoid getting hit. “Every guard in this place knows us! It’d be hard to forget considering our lineage, or had you forgotten who raised us?”

Mabel caught hold of Dipper’s hands and clutched them to her chest, staring down at her brother with wide eyes that were equal parts concerned, reassuring and shocked. “Dipper,” she breathed, and she could see that his own breathing was slowly going back to normal. “It’s going to be okay. _We_ are going to be okay.”

Dipper seemed to consider this for a moment, and then he was nodding, his instincts telling him to trust Mabel before he trusts himself, just as they always did. “Okay,” he said, “But if I die-” 

“If you die,” Mabel cut him off, holding a hand out for him, “I give you full permission to haunt me.” Dipper grinned, and took her hand.

 

. 

.           .

 

Pacifica couldn’t believe her eyes. She ran down the stairs as quickly as her legs would carry her, heading back to the ballroom just in time to see Mabel step through the door at the top of the winding staircase. Pacifica swept across the floor, dodging the mouth-breathers her parents called suitors who tried to coax her into another dance. She decapitated one man who caught hold of her upper arm with her eyes, and tore the limb away from him, making sure to cause enough of a scene that he was yelled at by some bystanders afterwards. She quickened her pace to a run in the final few metres to Mabel.

The brunette reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Pacifica, and then they were swept up in a hug so tight it precluded any thoughts of ever being torn away from each other ever again. Mabel’s arms wrapped so tightly around Pacifica’s back the blonde didn’t know if she would ever breathe again, but as she thought it she knew that she would sacrifice every breath she had left, just to be here now.

“Oh thank God,” Mabel breathed into Pacifica’s shoulder, the hot puff of breath sending shivers down Pacifica’s spine, but not like the ones she got from Gideon. These were good shivers, and she wondered if it wasn’t all that bad that she enjoyed them.

Pacifica stepped back, but the hand that had somehow been captured by Mabel’s didn’t slip away from the brunette’s grasp. Pacifica was holding on so tight she was sure that her knuckles were white under her gloves. “What are you doing here?” Pacifica asked, a bright smile crossing her face for the first time since she’d been home.

“We came to get you!” Mabel answered, her bright eyes swallowing every inch of Pacifica at once. Pacifica thought back to the first time she’d seen those eyes, so deep and dark she thought she would fall in. She had dreamt of Mabel since then, but her mind couldn’t do those eyes justice. There was just so much of them, big and open and beautiful. They were an ocean of emotion, like nothing Pacifica had ever seen before.

“We?” Pacifica asked, because she couldn’t remember seeing Mabel with anyone when she was walking to the palace or when she came down the stairs. But then, she doubted that she would be able to see an army if Mabel was standing in front of it, her bright light blinding Pacifica to everyone else in the room.

Mabel turned to look behind her, and her eyebrows furrowed when she found no one there. “Huh,” she said, returning her gaze to Pacifica. “Well, Dipper _was_ here. He must have-”

“Oh! Is that him?” Pacifica asked, pointing to a corner of the ballroom where two men stood talking in hushed tones. One of them had a shock of brown hair that was almost exactly like Mabel’s would look if it were shorter, though the other Pacifica didn’t recognise - a blond man, with dark skin and an unnaturally wide grin. The brunet didn’t look like Pacifica remembered Dipper, but then, last time she’d seen him he’d been in rags.

Mabel arched her neck to see where Pacifica was pointing, and sure enough there was Dipper, engaged in a heated conversation – or more likely, an argument – with Bill.

It was only when Mabel looked away that Pacifica could truly take in her surroundings. Her parents hadn’t noticed her – they were too busy leaning into one another, eyeing the crowd in distaste as they most likely made fun of their guests based on hushed rumours they’d heard at parties just like this one. That was the one thing that Pacifica had known she didn’t want, ever since she was a little girl – a relationship built on mutual hatred. Pacifica’s gaze slipped from her parents to the crowd of people she and Mabel were on the outskirts of. A man caught her eye, and he smiled, all bright white teeth and fat chapped lips. He walked faster when he saw Pacifica looking at him, and Pacifica’s mouth ran dry as she remembered the last time she had accepted a dance from him, and his hands had ‘accidentally’ found their way to places she didn’t want any man’s hands to be touching. When she had told her mother about it, she had told Pacifica to suck it up and take it like a lady – that’s what she had done when she was courting Pacifica’s father. The thought made her sick.

Pacifica squeezed Mabel’s hand, drawing her attention back to herself. Something about the look in Pacifica’s eye made Mabel frown. “Dance with me!” Pacifica urged, and before Mabel could ask any questions she was being tugged on to the floor. Pacifica was wrapped up in Mabel’s arms just in time to avoid Prince Steffan’s smarmy grasp.

Across the room, Dipper yelped as the genie suddenly appeared next to him, his Cheshire cat grin gleaming with amusement. Once Dipper was sure that he wasn’t having a heart attack, he eyed Bill with barely concealed curiosity. “What happened to you?” He asked. He didn’t need to clarify.

“That’s not important,” Bill waved him off. “You need to-”

“I don’t _need_ to do anything,” Dipper cut him off, his words grinding together as he forced them through gritted teeth. He didn’t like being told what to do. “I’m here to protect my sister, nothing more.”

Bill smirked at that, inclining his head to the couples waltzing in the centre of the room. “She seems to be taking care of herself.”

Dipper looked to the crowd, picking Mabel out immediately. Light and dark blue skirts swirled together, dark and pale skin pressed together as Mabel danced with Pacifica. Her arms were wrapped around Pacifica’s waist, her face resting against the princess’ shoulder, and her eyes were alight with something Dipper had never seen before. They glistened under the candle chandelier, her cheeks glowing bright and pink as Pacifica murmured something against her ear. As they turned, Dipper saw that Pacifica had the exact same look on her face, and it was only when he saw it on the face of a stranger that he recognised exactly what it was. 

Dipper had no idea how that had happened so fast, but then, Mabel had fallen for people faster before.

“So, go down that hall,” Bill said, reclaiming Dipper’s attention, “and I’ll meet you in the fourth room to the left. We have to talk.”

Dipper glanced back at Mabel, a little worriedly. He wasn’t sure if he should leave her. What if something bad happened? Before Dipper could voice his concerns, though, Bill was gone. The brunet heaved a sigh - he was beginning to hate it when Bill did that - scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “How did I get into this mess?” He asked the heaving crowd.

Breathing another sigh, Dipper cast one last look at Mabel before heading in the direction Bill had pointed him in. He passes a few doors on his way to the room Bill had chosen to rendezvous in, and the ones that were open appeared to be bedrooms. _Each room is a reflection of the person who owns it_ , Dipper thinks, as he glances at them in passing. He wonders who owns the room Bill sent him to, but his curiosity only lasts a few seconds because when he reaches the fourth door on the right there’s a golden plaque attached to the wood, ‘Gideon Gleeful’ written boldly across the surface.

Dipper’s heart hammered in his chest, but he did as he was told. Reaching a hand up, he rapped gently against the wood. His fist was clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his nails were biting crescents into his palm. He couldn’t be sure, but his hand might have been shaking as well. The door swung open as soon as Dipper touched it, and bright blue light spilled out of the crack into the hallway. Dipper cautiously took a step into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it empty. His respite only lasted a second, though, as he remembered that the room wasn’t _supposed_ to be empty.

_Where the hell was Bill?_

Sighing, Dipper closed the door behind him – at least that way he would hear if anyone tried to gain entry. He stepped further into the room, not realising where he was heading until he was standing in front of a massive bookshelf. Dipper subconsciously ran his fingers across the spines, old and leather and well looked after. His fingers stopped against one spine, bright yellow, with a triangle etched into the leather in place of a title. Curious, Dipper took it off the shelf, and flipped it open, thumbing through the pages.

Inside was, well, Dipper didn’t know what it was.

At first glance it looked like a cookbook, handwritten in Latin, with a list of ingredients at the top of the page followed by a step-by-step guide on what to do with them. At closer inspection, though, Dipper noticed that some of the ingredients were strange. Eye of newt, tail of cat, fin of shark. The book fell out of Dipper’s hands, crashing to the floor face up, the triangle on the cover staring up at him with a single blank eye.

It was a magic book.

Dipper carefully picked the book back up, stuffing it into his pocket without a second thought. He as right – Gideon was practicing magic. If he could show this to someone – prove that Gideon was not only doing something illegal, but within the King’s palace of all places – Gideon would never see the light of day again.

The air shifted around him, and Dipper recognised it as Bill entering the room. Dipper turned around, “Bill, I was wondering where you had-”

Something about the look in Bill’s eyes stopped him, and he was just about to ask what was wrong when Bill took a few steps closer, his chest less than an inch away from Dipper’s. “I’m sorry, Pine Tree,” he said, and he sounded-

Dipper didn’t get the chance to figure out what Bill sounded like, because at that moment Bill looked away, his face twisted into an expression Dipper had never seen before as he clicked his fingers.

And Dipper was taken up in flames.

Bill heard Dipper scream. He didn’t dare look back until the glare of the flames no longer gleamed in the corner of his eye. When he did look back, there wasn't a mark left on the carpet, no way for Gideon to suspect that Dipper had even been in there. He quickly conjured up a replacement for the book that Dipper had taken, but made sure that none of the spells inside would work. Slipping it between two other spell books, Bill turned on his heel and headed back to the ballroom.

Pacifica and Mabel were no longer dancing, and it took a moment for Bill to locate them in an alcove as far away from where Pacifica’s parents sat as they could get. As Bill approached, he saw Pacifica’s eyes latch on to him, and she immediately paled.

Mabel followed her line of sight, and smiled brightly when she saw him. “Oh! Hey Bill! Where’s Dipper?”

Pacifica looked at Mabel like she couldn’t believe what the brunette was doing. “Mabel,” she warned, her voice low and on edge, but Mabel didn’t hear her.

“He was talking to you earlier, wasn’t he?” She asked. Pacifica grabbed hold of Mabel’s hand, insistent and alarmed, and finally Mabel turned to look at her. When Mabel saw that Pacifica’s face was bleached of colour, and felt the blonde’s hand shaking in her own, Bill was completely forgotten. “What’s wrong?” She asked, a hand coming up to press against Pacifica’s shoulder. 

Pacifica didn’t take her eyes off of Bill. “It’s him,” she said, and Mabel looked over her shoulder at Bill in confusion. “Mabel, _he’s with Gideon_.” 

“Who, Bill?” Mabel laughed, waving a hand to dismiss Pacifica’s claim. “No, he’s-”

Bill’s lips twitched as Mabel jumped in to defend him, and he couldn’t drag it out any longer. “I’m sorry, Star,” he said, as he waved a hand over both girls, and together they collapsed to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this took so long you guys!!! i started back to school just after the third chapter was published, and i've only now gotten into the swing of things so i can write again. i'll let you know when the lulls in updates are going to happen from now on. thank you so much to all of you who've been asking after me - you're all sweethearts and i love you <3
> 
> now then, on a more serious-author-lady note, looking at where we are now, I'd say we have 3 chapters left of the Gideon arc. It's been mostly Mabifica up to this point, but they're gonna be taking a step back soon so that the boys can step back into the spotlight. as for how many chapters are going to be in this thing, i have no idea. i've planned up to chapter 13, but there's a load of stuff to come after that, i don't know
> 
> thank you for reading, i love you all, and if you have any questions do not be afraid to ask, because i love love love hearing from you <3


	5. Trust is not Given but Earned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wipes sweat from brow* well, here it is! i've been writing this instead of revising from my german exam on friday, but who cares amirite?

“Cipher!” Gideon screamed, storming across the room to the chest where the lamp was kept and rubbing it’s side ferociously. His cheeks were red with rage, his chest puffed up in preparation for the arrival of the genie.

Bill was there in a matter of seconds, emerging from a cloud of blue smoke that drifted through the air and stuck to Gideon’s suit, leaving dark blue marks against the powder blue fabric. “Hey short stack!” Bill called out, grinning widely as he kicked his heels up to rest against thin air. “What can I do you for?”

Gideon sneered, eyeing the relaxed form of the genie with disgust. “Word has it that Mabel and Dipper Pines are here,” He growled. When Bill continued to stare at him expectantly, he gritted out through clenched teeth, “How?”

“Well, I imagine they walked,” Bill answered.

The genie turned his head away to hide a smile as Gideon’s face grew a few shades closer to purple. “Don’t play with me, genie!” He snarled, seething. “How did they escape the house?”

Bill shrugged, delighting when it proved to make Gideon even angrier. “Maybe one of them’s a witch – never put witch magic and genie magic together. Nothing good ever comes of that combination.” Gideon glared up at him, cheeks puffed out as he- actually, Bill had no idea what Gideon was doing. “You know – one time I went to a party with a witch. His name was Alan. He used to-”

“Enough!” Gideon cut him off. “Oh, forget it – they escaped. We’ll just have to capture them again. And this time make sure not to screw it up! Just-” Gideon took a calming breath, chubby fingers clinging to the table at his side so hard Bill was sure the wood was going to dent beneath his fingers. “Bring them to me,” Gideon ordered.

Bill grinned. “Your wish is my command~” He said, stooping into a low bow and fading out of the room, though not before muttering, “You monster,” just loud enough for Gideon to hear.

 

.

.           .

 

Hours later, and Mabel is finally waking up from the sleeping curse that Bill had cast on both her and Pacifica. She groaned, eyelids heavy and back aching from being slumped in an awkward position. She moved to stretch, only to find that she couldn't move her arms from her sides. Frowning, she looked down, discovering thick lengths of glowing blue rope tied tightly around her abdomen.

“Dipper?” She gasped out, struggling against the bonds as she craned her neck to look for her brother. She sighed with relief when she saw the familiar mop of brown hair next to her, though it only lasted a second as she remembered Pacifica. Looking to her other side, she was met with big blue eyes, staring at her with a frightened spark in the blue pools as Pacifica gaped at what had unfolded around her.

“Did he hurt you?” Dipper urged. Mabel payed him no notice, and Dipper had to tug on Mabel’s dress to reclaim her attention. “Mabel, _did he hurt you_?” 

“Wha-?” Her face scrunched up in confusion, thinking back to the last thing she remembered before falling asleep. She couldn’t hold back her surprised and betrayed gasp as her memories came flooding back. “Bill!” She breathed, heart sinking as she remembered the look of fear on Pacifica’s face when Bill had appeared – and she had ignored it, too! Mabel had been so insistent on trusting Bill that she hadn’t payed attention to how afraid of him Pacifica seemed. “You were right,” she breathed, and the crestfallen look that crossed her face chilled Dipper to the core.

“I told you,” Pacifica said, fingers stretching out to touch the hand beside her. She couldn’t reach. There was no vindictiveness in her voice when she said, “He’s with Gideon.”

“Right you are!” A voice chimed in, and all three heads turned to where it had come from. Bill floated leisurely in the corner, a wide grin on his face as he surveyed the three teenagers across from him. “Though not willingly,” he added. 

At the look of glee on Bill’s face, Mabel felt tears brimming in her eyes. A small part of her had still hoped that she was wrong – that her memory had failed her, that Bill _was_ on their side in all of this. That hope came crashing down inside of her. “Bill,” she said, barely a whisper, “why are you doing this?”

Bill shrugged, immediately regretting it when he saw the way it made Mabel’s face fall even further into despair, if that was even possible. “I was told to,” he explained, his expression turning guarded as he added, “and a genie always does as he is told.”

Dipper frowned at this, shoulders squaring as appraised Bill with narrowed eyes. He had been watching silently, and something about the way Bill was moving and speaking was just… off. He remembered the first time Gideon had ordered Bill to do something, and how he’d left it wide open for the twins to escape. Frowning slightly, Dipper wondered if Gideon had made the same mistake again. It was almost implausible, but as Dipper evaluated their situation he figured that it was worth a shot.

“What exactly was it that you were told to do?” He asked.

Bill’s golden eye slid over to Dipper, and the corner of his lip tugged upwards as he said, “Now we’re asking the right questions!” Bill came closer to Dipper, his feet dropping to floor as he fell into a crouch in front of the brunet. “Well, Pine Tree,” he began, reaching up to place a speculative finger against his cheek. “I was to bring you here, which I did!”

Pacifica huffed indignantly, and Bill’s eye flicked to her for a second before returning to Dipper, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable with how close Bill was perched. He could feel the genie’s hot breath on his cheeks, and he hoped to God his cheeks weren’t going red. “I still don’t understand why-” Pacifica started to say, but was cut off by Bill raising a finger, muting her.

“But,” Bill continued, briefly eyeing Pacifica with annoyance at being interrupted. “If I were to turn around, leaving this-” Bill waved a hand, and in an eruption of blue flame a small obsidian knife appeared in the palm of his hand. He dropped the knife, and it landed between two of Dipper’s fingers, embedded an inch in the stone floor. “-and you were to escape? Well, there’s nothing I could do about that, now is there?”

Dipper looked down at his hand – and _nearly severed fingers_ – and back to Bill, once, twice, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Bill grinned at him, winked once, then stood back up. Turning his back on the trio, Bill made his way across the room, whistling a tune as he suddenly became very interested in the tile patterns on the wall. _Ooh, shiny._

Dipper wasted no time in picking up the knife, slashing through the ropes that bound he and the girl’s to the stone pillar with ease. The ropes glowed a brighter blue for a moment after they were cut, hissing slightly, then they dimmed to nothing as they fell away from their bodies.

Mabel was the first on her feet, and she tugged Pacifica up by the hand and started dragging her towards the door, which had quite conveniently been left open. Dipper hung back for a second, casting a long look at Bill’s back, not sure what to think.

“You’d better get going, Pine Tree. Wouldn’t want me to catch you, now, would you?” He said, lips twitching as he watched Dipper in the reflection on the wall.

Dipper breathed sharply through his nose – the closest thing to a laugh that Bill had ever heard from him – and then he turned on his heel, running after his sister as he slipped the knife into his pocket. 

Dipper found Mabel and Pacifica standing on a balcony. Dipper had to commend Bill’s planning skills – the balcony hung right over the castle walls, and if they could get down there, they’d be free. There was just one problem, though – _how were they going to get down there?_

Dipper leaned over the wrought iron railings, his head spinning at the height. He’d jumped off of buildings before, but this was a whole other level. He turned away from his sister – who was biting her lip, staring at the drop as she thought of ways to get down safely – to Pacifica, eyebrow raised as he invited her to share any ideas.

“We could always find another way out – as long as Gideon doesn’t see us, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Pacifica suggested, gnawing absently at her perfectly filed nails.

Dipper nodded, and turned back to Mabel. He was going to say that Pacifica’s plan sounded like their best bet, but the wide grin on Mabel’s face rendered him speechless.

Before he could ask, Mabel’s hand was dipping into a slit in her skirt and pulling something out. “Grappling Hook!” She yelled, grinning as she held the pink device over her head. Smile bright, Mabel grabbed Pacifica around the waist and pulled her flush against her chest, then hurled herself over the railing.

For a split second, Dipper couldn’t breathe. But then the sharp metal hook was latching on to the railing and Mabel was laughing distantly below and Pacifica’s startled scream turned into one of delight and Dipper’s lungs were filled with air again. 

He heard a thud below, followed my Mabel’s distant call of, “You can come down now!”

Dipper shook his head with a laugh, and hopped off the balcony, his hand wrapping around the wire attached to the hook as he slid down the side of the building. He fell the last few feet to the ground, his hand bleeding and no longer able to hold on to the sharp wire, but the pain didn’t bother him. As he stared up at the balcony – nearly forty feet above them – he was starting to see why Mabel loved that Grappling Hook so much.

Mabel whooped as she tugged on the pink device, dislodging the hook from the balcony and pressing the button to suck it back into the gun. She swung it around on her finger a few times before shoving it back into its sheath, a wide grin on her face. She _really_ loved that grappling hook.

Dipper couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his mouth as his gaze slipped to Mabel and Pacifica, grinning at each other. “I can’t believe we pulled that off!” Dipper breathed.

Mabel was quick to join him, smile wide as she laughed and pulled Pacifica into a tight hug. “Let’s go home,” she sighed, her eyes the brightest and most alive Dipper had seen them in years.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and made no move to pull away when Mabel grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him into the hug.

 

.

.           .

 

The walk back to the shack didn’t seem to take any time at all. Mabel had been apprehensive to go back at first – as soon as someone discovered that the princess was missing, their house would be the first place they’d suspect her to go. That was why it was so perfect, Dipper had argued. No one was dumb enough to go to the same hiding spot twice. Anyone who was smart enough to ‘kidnap’ the princess twice would never be dumb enough to take her back to their home. The guards wouldn’t even bother looking there.

When they reached the house, Dipper all but fell through the front door. Fatigue had finally caught up to him, and he fought a raging war just to keep his eyes open. Mabel quickly ushered Pacifica upstairs, turning back to Dipper when she reached the top to thank him for letting her stay. She smiled sleepily, eyes alight and alert despite the rest of her being practically asleep already. 

Dipper smiled at that – he’d never been able to see into people’s souls like Mabel had, and for once he didn’t have to. He knew exactly what Mabel was feeling at the moment, and he was only too happy to let her bask in it for as long as it would last.

“It’s okay,” he said, his drowsiness already taking a step back in his mind as he eyed the mess in the house. He hadn’t had the chance to clean up the destruction Bill had caused yesterday, and the mess was starting to weigh on his mind. “I’m gonna clean the place up – I can’t think straight with all this mess. Call me if you need anything, okay?” 

Mabel smiled and nodded, before turning tail and leading Pacifica in through her bedroom door. 

Dipper eyed the room around him. There were papers scattered all over the floor, singed at the edges after Bill’s little temper tantrum after he and Mabel had tricked him. Dipper snorted as he remembered the look on Bill’s face when he had figured it out – it was the only time he had ever looked human. The picture frame Bill had thrown against the wall was in pieces on the floor, though thankfully the picture of the twins and their Grunkle was still intact, their faces smiling brightly up at Dipper from under their home-made hats.

Heaving a sigh, Dipper shucked his jacket off, loosened his tie and pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. He set to work on clearing the papers first, tossing the ones that could not be saved away and stacking the ones that could into a neat pile. This didn’t take him long, and afterwards he set to work fixing the picture frame. There were pieces of painted pasta glued to it, glitter and stars and rhinestones barely clinging to the wood after all these years. Mabel’s name was written brightly in glittery ink on the upper beam, and Dipper’s adorned the bottom. It had been Stan’s birthday present, nine years ago, and had taken the twins almost three days to make. Mabel had assumed he’d thrown it out, but one day, just after Stan and Ford had left, she found it on his bedside table. She decided that it deserved a place in the hallway, where any guests would be able to see it, and it had been hanging on the wall ever since. Mabel wouldn’t tell Dipper when he asked, but Mabel missed the Stan’s, and Dipper would often find her curled up in one of their bedrooms with something from their closet clutched to her chest.

Dipper swore under his breath as he burned his finger on the hot glue for the third time, frowning at his abused appendage as he shoved it in his mouth. When the pain died down, he picked up the brush and continued with smearing glue on the wood.

“My, my,” Bill’s voice rang out from just a few inches behind Dipper. The brunet nearly jumped out of his skin, the brush falling out of his hand and clattering to the table as he clutched his chest, his heart beating a mile a minute. Ignoring Dipper’s present state, Bill prodded at the picture frame. “You’re awfully persistent, Pine Tree.” He picked up a silvery star and stuck it to Dipper’s cheek, grinning when Dipper did nothing but glare. “Though, it would be so much easier if you could just-” Bill waved a hand over the frame. Piece by piece it reassembled perfectly, bits of macaroni and dried glitter-glue hopping on to the wood to be reattached, exactly as they had been before.

While he was at it - being nice and all - Bill took Dipper’s hand in his own, and blew a puff of air on Dipper’s finger. The angry red burn faded back to pink, and Bill smiled at his handiwork. He told himself it was just for good measure - _not_ because he was starting to like the kid. 

Dipper took his hand back from Bill and tucked it under the table. The genie grinned, eyes squinting and twin dimples digging into his cheeks. Dipper glared. “You think you can walk in here, fix a few things, and everything’s going to be okay?” His tone did not quite match the incredulous look in his eyes, but his raised eyebrow did more than enough to make up for it.

“Yes.” Bill answered. Dipper’s other eyebrow joined the first, and Bill tried again with, “No?”

Shaking his head, Dipper kicked a chair away from the table, inviting Bill to sit down. Bill did – it had been a while since he’d sat in a chair. He’d forgotten what it was like.

“What even was that?” Dipper asked, after a tense few seconds of silence. “Why do you-”

“Listen, kid,” Bill cut him off, leaning back in the chair. He knew what the kid was going to ask him before he’d arrived – he’d prepared an answer and everything. “It’s my lamp.” Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed, not sure what that had to do with anything, and Bill took that as an invitation to go on. “I have access to all the power in the universe,” Bill’s hands moved down to undo his cufflinks – gold triangles – and fold his shirt sleeve up to reveal a golden band around his wrist. “At a bit of an expense.”

Dipper frowned at the gold bangle, his fingers reaching out to touch the metal. As his fingers brushed the band, the shackle grew hot, the colour swiftly turning to blue as it grew warm against Dipper’s fingertips. It didn’t burn – in some ways it was nice; hot and kind of tingly. Dipper leaned forwards, the pads of his fingertips trailing a line of carved triangles around the edge of the band, and the gold started to vibrate under his touch.

Bill snatched his wrist away, startling Dipper, and he stared down at the rapidly cooling metal with confusion. “That’s new.”

Dipper snorted, “You’ve got those things attached to your body and you don’t know what they do?”

Bill scoffed, his hand lightly massaging his still-hot shackle as he said, indignantly, “I know lots of things about what they do!”

Dipper smirked, chuckling under his breath at Bill’s expression when he said, “But not everything.”

Bill was not amused.

“ _Anyway_ ,” He changed the subject before it got out of hand – he could get… _testy_ , when it came to his intelligence. Years of being called stupid could do that to someone. “These-” he shook his wrists for emphasis “-are bound to my lamp. And they force me to do whatever the person holding my lamp desires. I have no idea what happens if I go against my orders, and frankly, I don’t want to find out. Make sense?”

 _It sounds a little far fetched, actually_ , Dipper thought, but when he looked up at Bill, something in the genies eyes makes Dipper believe that he’s being sincere. Actually, scratch that – it’s more like Dipper _feels_ that Bill is telling the truth. He doesn’t look too much into it. “Okay, so- how do we go about getting it back from Gideon?”

At Bill’s look of shock – or was it disbelief? – Dipper rolled his eyes and said, “Before you say anything, I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for Mabel - God knows what Gideon’s planning to use your lamp for, but it can’t be good, and Mabel’s dealt with that man enough to last her a lifetime. Trust me.” A grin splits Bill’s face in half, and before he could say anything Dipper pointed a finger at him. “But so help me God, if you do one thing to hurt anyone one you get it back I will melt the thing down and throw it in the ocean.”

Bill’s mouth hung open, and he pressed a hand to his chest, right above where his heart would be – did genies even have hearts? Dipper made a mental note to look it up, before discarding it, because really – where would he find a book detailing the anatomy of a genie? “Pine Tree!” Bill gasped. “You wound me! To think that I, the picture of innocence, would use my unlimited cosmic power to hurt a lesser being! I am appalled that you would think such a thing of me!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He brought a hand up to hide it, but Bill saw, and the genie smiled back – not a grin or a smirk but a smile, and it stirred something unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant in Dipper’s gut. Dipper blinked – _what the hell is that?_ – then shook his head. It was probably just fatigue. _And_ he hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. He should probably do something about that.

Upstairs, Pacifica was huddled in the corner of Mabel’s bed, leaning against the wall with a thick quilt wrapped around her. She had borrowed a pair of pyjamas from Mabel – pink, with little purple llamas on them – and at some point her arms had become home to a stuffed bear named Nigel.

Mabel was sat on the floor, hunched over her lap as knitting needles clacked against each other. She was in a tshirt and shorts – much more comfortable with the cold house than Pacifica was – and was working tirelessly on a sweater to keep Pacifica warm as the nights grew colder. 

“Mabel?” Pacifica said quietly, voice soft as she leaned away from the wall and shuffled closer to Mabel. Something about being near the girl made her more relaxed, and even as she was so close to her that she could reach out and touch her if she had the guts to do so, she still longed to be closer. 

Mabel’s knitting needles stilled, and she placed the currently shapeless purple loops to the side. “Yes?” She asked, turning to look up at Pacifica with big eyes filled with concern. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Pacifica answered, a little breathily as Mabel moved to sit next to her on the bed. “I just- thank you, Mabel.”

Mabel laughed. “What for?” She asked, poking Pacifica in the cheek. She peeled back the covers on her bed and shuffled under them, her toes curling away from the cold spots where no one had been sitting. Mabel tapped the space she had left next to her for Pacifica, pressing herself as far back to the wall to keep from invading the princess’ personal space.

Pacifica crawled under the blankets slowly, careful not to touch Mabel for fear of the girl somehow finding out how nervous she was. In all her years, she had never shared the bed with anyone; she had no idea what she was supposed to do. She settled down, tucking her elbows close to her chest, and holding her legs ramrod straight. Her eyes flicked up to look at Mabel for the first time after an eternity of silence, and she immediately wished she hadn’t. Mabel’s bed was tiny – barely big enough for one – and with the two of them squashed in there, Mabel and Pacifica were so close that their noses were almost touching.

“For letting me stay here,” Pacifica finally answered, after having forgotten she’d been asked a question. She had been staring into Mabel’s warm brown eyes for longer than was probably socially acceptable, and she forced herself to look away, sure that her cheeks were bright red. “And for helping me get away from that place.” She added, “You didn’t have to, and I just-”

“Nonsense!” Mabel cut her off, reaching out under the blankets to give Pacifica’s hand a squeeze. “I wanted to!” Pacifica looked down at their joined hands, her own pale and cold against Mabel’s, tanned and warm. “That’s what friends are for, right?” Mabel said, a yawn slicing her words in half.

Mabel’s eyes had already slipped closed, the open arms of sleep welcoming her, and Pacifica was glad, because in that moment her world came crashing down, and she knew that if Mabel’s eyes had been open she would have seen the whole thing. Pacifica slipped her hand out of Mabel’s, bringing it close to her chest before the last of Mabel’s warmth could bleed out of it, and she tried her best to smile when she said, “Yeah. I guess it is.”

 

. 

.           .

 

Gideon stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him and paying no mind to the several angry shouts from the palace’s servants that followed. “Slave!” He screamed, his rage making his blood boil. “Come here at once!”

Bill was already sitting in the corner, feet propped up on Gideon’s desk with a book balanced on his knees. Setting the book aside, Bill took his feet down from the mahogany table. “I sure hope you weren’t talking to me just now,” he growled, a single flame dancing across his fingertips before settling in the palm of his hand.

“Then prepare for your hopes to be crushed!” Gideon snapped, too angry to be surprised by Bill’s sudden appearance. “I demand to know-”

“I’d be careful of what you say next, little man,” Bill interrupted, eye glowing red as he snapped his fingers. A triangle of blue flame rose up from the floor, closing in on Gideon and trapping him in the centre. 

Gideon looked down at the flaming triangle, unimpressed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t intimidate me, genie.” He spat. “As long as I have this-” Gideon pulled Bill’s lamp out of his pocket, the enchanted gold dulled by the ill intent of its holder, “-you can do nothing to hurt me!” 

“Care to test that theory?” Bill snarled. The triangle of fire inched closer to the human with every word that he said, the flames coming frightfully close to setting his expensive suit alight.

Bill’s voice was dark and incensed, but nothing in comparison to the murderous looks he was shooting his master. Gideon didn't say anything after that, and he suddenly looked too hot, his face bright red against the white of his shirt. Bill grinned, his teeth sharply pointed, and his odd eye blazed with a thousand-degree heat. Bill breathed a short laugh at how pathetic Gideon was in this moment – and to think that all of Bill’s power behaved according the whims of an arrogant little talcum-powered demon-child.

This seemed to rouse Gideon from his stupor. His lip curled into a saccharine smile and he guffawed. “You think _this_ is going to scare me? Little genie,” he yelped as the flames flared around him, but he persisted, “if you think you have any power over me then you’re even more deluded than I thought! You. Belong. To _me!_ ”

Bill scowled, his whole body quivering with rage, but he let his flames die down. His pride took more than a minor hit, but he told himself that it would all be worth it when he reclaimed control and could grind the little trolls bones to dust. He had made a promise not to hurt anyone, but for Gideon, he was willing to make an exception.

Gideon smirked, “There’s an obedient little slave.”

And it took all of Bill’s willpower to keep from taking his lamp by force there and then, to hell with what would happen if he couldn’t. It was as a sliver of black magic entered his body, ready for the genie to go on the offensive, that something peculiar happened. For some reason, Dipper came to the forefront of Bill’s mind. Somehow, just the thought of the boy when he had promised to return Bill’s lamp to him was enough to calm him down. He turned away from Gideon, muttering, “You’re lucky I like that kid.” His voice was too low for Gideon to hear it, but his words were laced with enough black magic that Gideon would feel the clear threat in the air. Bill watched with satisfaction as the dark words sent a shiver up Gideon’s spine.

“Now that you’re being more cooperative,” Gideon began, tugging off his blazer and tossing it across the room. It landed in a bundle on the floor, and Bill’s hands clenched into fists at the clear disregard for something that half the people in the kingdom would kill for – that he would have killed for, a long time ago. Most of the things in Gideon’s room cost more than it would to feed a family for a year, and the human didn’t even care. “Tell me, why did those outlandish teenagers escape?” 

Bill couldn’t help himself. “Because they wanted to, I suppose.”

Bill bit his lip to hold back a laugh when Gideon’s face grew red once more. “What have I told you about getting smart with me?” He asked, voice sweet and sickly like caramel.

“Don’t.” Bill spat back.

Gideon smiled, fat lips puckering grotesquely as he took a seat on his desk. “Perfect. Now-” he chose his words carefully, “- _how_ did they escape?”

Bill shrugged, kicking off from the desk and backing away from Gideon. His voice was uninterested when he begrudgingly explained, “One of them had a knife. They cut through the rope when my back was turned.” 

Gideon’s eyes went wide for a second before narrowing into slits. “And _why_ was your back turned?” He snarled. 

Bill didn’t answer.

Gideon scowled, noting the way Bill was looking at him with an expression so dark and murderous it almost made Gideon rethink the way he was treating Bill. Almost. But then he dispelled the thought because Bill was the lamp’s slave, and Gideon owned the lamp, so no matter how much Bill hated him there was no way for him to do anything, anyway.

“You’re dismissed,” Gideon said, waving a hand as if he could literally blow Bill away just by stirring the air.

“Gee, thanks!” Bill deadpanned.

Gideon’s glare was directed at Bill in a flash. “What was that?”

“I said ‘Thank you’-” Bill stooped down into a low bow, “-‘oh merciful master!’” Smoke had began to pool around Bill’s ankles, and by the time he had risen from his bow, his body was on it’s way to somewhere much more enjoyable than Gideon’s presence. Then again, any other place anywhere was better than being exposed to Gideon’s foul face.

Gideon’s scowl turned into a smirk when Bill was gone, and he turned on his heel to head towards the whirlpool at the centre of the room. He prodded the water, and colour started to weave it’s way through the currents, forming a perfect picture of the Pines household.

Mabel and Dipper were sat in the living room, Dipper with his head buried in a book and Mabel with her hands working away at what appeared to be the beginnings of a purple sweater. Pacifica was nowhere to be seen, but Gideon was sure that she was there somewhere.

It had somehow all worked out in his favour. He had thought he would have to marry Pacifica – waste a wish on making her love him, too – but because of Mabel and Dipper she was out of the picture, hopefully for good. If she did decide to make a surprise reappearance, though, Gideon was all for killing the girl. He had thought about it on several occasions – slicing a knife through the throat of the sole heir of the Northwest line, forcing the grieving cousin of the princess to take the throne in her place. It would be-

Gideon’s thoughts were cut off, rather suddenly, by a drastic change in the whirlpool in front of him.

In the centre of the room he was peering in to, a swirl of colour had caught his eye. Blue smoke bubbled up from nowhere, the cloud growing taller and brighter as lightning streaked through it, filling the room with an intense blue light. And then the cloud was fading, the shroud disappearing, leaving in its place none a grinning Bill Cipher. The genie said something, and both twins looked happy – and not at all surprised – to see him. 

If Gideon was mad before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling right now.

Hands curling into fists, Gideon marched across the room to where he had left Bill’s lamp in his jacket pocket. He pulled the gold artefact out of the fabric and rubbed his sweaty hand against it furiously. He failed to notice the golden metal fading to black beneath his fingers. Gideon glanced behind him with a smirk as Bill was once again taken up in a cloud of smoke, leaving the Pines twins blinking after him in confusion.

“What now?” Bill groaned as he was deposited in front of Gideon. At this rate, he was never going to get the chance to speak to Dipper about his parents.

Gideon eyed Bill thoughtfully, and a devious smile crossed his face as he said, “I’m ready to make my second wish.”

“Good for you!” Bill applauded. A moment passed and Gideon hadn’t said a word, just inspected Bill with a look that was equal parts unthreatening and unnerving. “Get on with it, then!”

“Very well - I wish to become to the most powerful sorcerer in the world!”

Gideon had to force himself not to cackle when Bill’s eyes widened, golden iris flicking down to him, panic streaking through it almost violently. “I uh,” Bill stalled, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you sure?” He wracked his brain for any way to get out of this one, but there was nothing. No loopholes. No way out.

Gideon grinned. “Do it,” he snarled.

Bill nodded, the power of the wish already filling his veins with fire. He pointed a finger at Gideon, and a spark of blue lightning shot from it, hitting him square in the chest. The electricity danced across Gideon’s body, fading into purple and then red as the magic was diffused into Gideon’s soul, becoming his own. Bill could feel the swell of Gideon’s power – feel his magical presence take up more and more space in the room, the power folding around him growing bigger as Bill’s own grew smaller – and he’d have to be blind not to see the way Gideon was physically changing. Bodies did that, Bill had found out, when they were filled with more power than they could handle. Most people would have expected the body to give out, but they underestimated the power of a vessel. If a body cannot handle power, it mutates and upgrades until it can.

Gideon’s eyes were the first to go, sclera turning black and vacant as the iris’ shifted to a blood red colour, fire dancing within the pupil. That red iris shifted to stare at Bill as Gideon’s mouth opened wide, and an ear-splitting sound more like nails across a chalkboard than laughter spilled out of it. Bill could do nothing but watch as Gideon leeched more and more power out of his body, leaving him empty and, for all intents and purposes, human.

It felt like forever that Gideon’s body was filled up with magical energy – Bill’s energy – but eventually the flow from the genie slowed from a river to a trickle, then to the occasional drip, and finally to nothing.

At some point Bill had collapsed, sunk to his knees as every last ounce of magic he had was ripped away from him. It would come back, but it would take time, and at the mercy of someone currently much more powerful than he was, Bill didn’t have time to wait for his power to return to him naturally. Gideon kicked at Bill’s side, laughing when he slumped over, and the last thing Bill saw before his body was taken away to someplace safer to regenerate was Gideon’s body, engulfed in fire, as his eyes glowed like a beast’s through the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that... Bill backstory?? Gay feelings?? Where did that come from?? Who knows!! (also thumbs down for stealing Bill dialogue from the show, but he's so hard [he he] to write!!)
> 
> A quick thank you to all of you who have commented on this so far, and sent me messages on my tumblr. reading what you think always makes my day, and some of the questions you ask have really helped me to develop this story further. i would also like to shoot a special thank you to those whose truly fantastic insulting nicknames for Gideon inspired some of the ones in this chapter - you know who you are ;)


	6. It's Freezing in Here

‘It’s bigger on the inside’ Bill had always said about his lamp, mostly because it was true. It was perfectly tailored to his needs; always the right temperature, any door he opened would lead to the room he was looking for, always precisely outfitted to do whatever it was he wanted it for.

Except for right now, it would seem.

The space around him felt too small, and stuffy. It was hot, and something warm and heavy was on top of him, pinning him to the bumpy surface below. He wondered if he’d been dropped in a part of the lamp he hadn’t explored before – it wasn’t entirely out of the question. He’d lost interest in exploring it after only a few months, - it would be impossible to have enough possessions to fill every room, anyway, looking into all of them would be pointless.

Bill’s head was pounding, and without the magic he’d become so used to feeding into his every movement, he felt heavy. Wet sand weighed him down when he rolled on to his back, slinging his arm haphazardly over his face to block the light that somehow managed to get through his eyelids.

 _This is bad_ , he thought, turning his mind to Gideon. He couldn’t sense him any more – couldn’t feel him make decisions and act on them, and nothing was more worrying than that. He could never be lucky enough to have somehow slept through Gideon’s demise, which meant the brat had figured out how to block him out. He’d have to get up soon; assess the damage to his magic, look into what Gideon was up to, check on the twins. With Gideon in his new state, those two wouldn’t be alive for very much longer, and Bill just couldn’t have that – while he didn’t particularly care for them, he _was_ curious about that birthmark, and it would bother him if they died before he got an answer.

Bill’s eyes blinked open, and even that tiny movement was enough to tire him out, though he forgot all about that at the sight of two identically shocked faces staring down at him. Bill blinked, then looked at his surroundings. Instead of the pointed golden ceilings of his lamp, this room was square and grey, cobwebs clinging to corners and peculiar stains in an array of colours dotting the ceiling. Eyebrows furrowed, Bill sat up, not bothering to pat his hair down over his odd eye as he blinked at the twins, who were looking just as surprised as Bill felt. A thick blanket had been draped over him, and he was lying on a bed in a room – he assumed they were in the shack – he hadn’t seen before.

Mabel shuffled closer to the genie and pressed a hand to his forehead. She frowned at Bill with a concern that he found was much to motherly for a girl as young as she.

Bill’s eyes were dim, nothing like the glowing nebulas of liquid gold she was used to, and Dipper had said earlier that Bill didn’t feel right – something about his presence being practically non-existent, like he was in the room but couldn’t quite fill the space he was taking up.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she checked his temperature, making him flinch – he was freezing cold, and in contrast her skin against his burned like nothing he’d ever felt before. “Did we wake you up?”

Frowning, he swatted the girl’s hand away, and she backed off, giving him his space. He didn’t say anything, just stared around the room, eyes wide and more human than either twin had ever seen them.

 _What the hell am I doing here?_ He thought, alternating between looking around the room and at the twins, as if staring would somehow give him all of the answers he desired.

“I don’t know,” Dipper replied out loud – Bill had forgotten he could do that. “You fell into the living room last night – you’ve been asleep ever since.”

“We thought it would be best to bring you up here,” Mabel added, eyeing Bill as if he was going to pass out again any second. “You didn’t look too great. Kind of _grey_.”

“I see,” Bill said, nodding slowly. His magic was supposed to take him to the place he felt most safe – it was possible that that place had changed from his lamp to this house, though in the two days it had been since he’d met the twins he thought it highly unlikely. The only other place he would have been taken to was the dwelling of someone with a capability to heal him, but last time he checked there were no genies in the Pines household, so it couldn’t be that.

“So, what happened?” Dipper asked.

There was a curious light behind his eyes, and he was leaning forwards, as if he could make Bill answer all of his questions just by getting closer to him. Mabel slapped Dipper gently in the arm, giving him a look that quickly snuffed out that light. Bill had to admit that he was a little disappointed - he liked answering questions, he added, just in case Dipper was listening in. “ _Dipper,_ ” Mabel scolded. “He just woke up!”

Dipper bit on the inside of his lip, nodding. “Sorry,” he said to Bill, without looking up at him. “I didn’t-”

“It was Gideon,” Bill cut him off with the answer to his question. He pushed the blanket that had been slung over him away and clambered out of the bed – he couldn’t stand the way the twins looked at him, like he was some poor creature they had to nurse back to health. Away from the blanket, though, he was starting to regret his decision. The air against his skin was freezing, and Bill’s body started quaking as the cold seeped through him, chilling his bones.

“Oh!” Dipper said suddenly, ignoring Bill’s look that pierced him with Bill’s words of: _I wasn’t finished_. “It’s pretty cold.” Dipper reached a gloved hand up to the neck of his jacket, unzipping it. “Here.” He shucked the blue garment off of his shoulders, handing it to Bill with a smile.

The genie was all too happy to put it on.

The shivering stopped almost immediately, and he crossed his arms to burrow his hands into the sleeves, basking in Dipper’s warmth. The jacket smelled like the boy – something tangy like mint or ginger. He returned Dipper’s smile gladly.

Neither of them saw the thoughtful look Mabel was giving them, a sliver of a smile gracing her features before she bit down on a lip to stifle it.

“He made another wish,” Bill continued, finally tearing his eyes away from Dipper, forcing them not to stray back to those curious brown eyes as he elaborated, “A big one - and it took a lot out of me.”

Dipper frowned. He had no idea that Bill’s power had limitations; could be used up. “What did he wish for?”

Bill opened his mouth to tell them, then thought better of it. He turned to Mabel. “Where’s the princess? She might want to hear this, too.”

“Oh, right.” Mabel breathed – she had no idea what this could have to do with Pacifica – and if it was going to hurt her, she wasn’t entirely sure Pacifica should find out at all. After everything she’d been through, the last thing Mabel wanted was for even more weight to be laid on her shoulders. “She’s sleeping in my room. I’ll go get her.” Mabel got up, and reluctantly went to rouse Pacifica from her sleep.

And so Bill and Dipper were left alone.

Without his jacket, Dipper was beginning to feel the cold, and he was trying his damndest not to shiver in his thin t-shirt. He didn’t want the genie to feel bad, though he had no idea why. He didn’t know when he had started _caring_ about Bill, it had just sort of happened, and-

 _Oh God_ – now he sounded like Mabel when she got a new crush.

“So…” Dipper began, running away from his thoughts with a speed to rival that of a _really_ fast thing. “How exactly did you end up like that?”

“‘Like that’?” Bill asked.

“No offense, man, but you look terrible.”

Bill grinned, “So you admit I looked good before?” He winked, and Dipper rolled his eyes.

“I never said that.” His expression went hard for a second, before relaxing into something like concern or caution. “Would you just tell me what he did to you – please?”

Bill’s own expression turned solemn. “He drained me of my power,” he said.

Dipper’s jaw dropped, and the look he gave Bill held no pity – only anger, and not directed at him. “Permanently, or-?”

“No, no, it’ll come back.” Bill waved him off, and all of the tension fell away from Dipper’s body at once as he sighed. “Eventually,” Bill added, though he wasn’t sure if Dipper heard him or not.

The silence came back, though this time it was anything but awkward. Both men were lost in their thoughts – Dipper thinking about Bill, and Bill, incidentally, thinking about Dipper.

“And…” Dipper said again, but as soon as the word breached his lips he thought better of it. It was a stupid question to ask, anyway… He fidgeted with the brown carpet at his knees.

Bill stayed silent, waiting for Dipper to go on. When he didn’t, he raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“Are you okay?” Dipper finally asked, eyes flitting up to meet Bill’s for a second before returning to the threads of the carpet his fingers were working on unpicking. 

“I just told you, I’m-”

“No,” Dipper interrupted, his hands stilling. “I mean, like, _emotionally_. Are you okay?” Dipper couldn’t take his eyes off the floor. This was Mabel’s area of expertise - he had no idea what he was doing. How was he even supposed to make someone feel better about having all of their power drained away? He wasn’t even sure if genies were _supposed_ to be able to lose their power – what if to Bill this was the equivalent of having his leg lobbed off? Or his head? How was he supposed to make someone feel better after having their head chopped off?

“What sort of-?” Bill began, a confused lilt to his voice, and Dipper had to look up at that – that was the most expression the genie had shown since he’d woken up. Somewhere along the course of this conversation, Bill’s presence had started to come back, too. Not as much as it had been before – Bill still seemed too small, his aura more like the glowing light of a candle than the warm shine of sunlight Dipper had began to associate with the genie – but it was larger than it had been when Bill was still asleep. “Of course I am!” Bill continued, “I’m an-”

“Omnipotent, omniscient genie?” Dipper cut in again. He smiled, “I know.”

Bill grinned, and the ethereal glow in his eyes flickered back into existence, just for a second, when they met with Dipper’s across the room. “Good.”

 

.

.           .

 

Gideon stormed through the palace, hands swiping at the air to knock any oncoming guards out of his path. He breezed through the halls, not caring about whether the men he threw against the walls survived the nasty cracks he inflicted on their bones. 

When he reached the solid oak door of the throne room, he blew it off its hinges, just narrowly avoiding hitting King Preston Northwest with the flying timber. The king scrambled to his feet, scurrying across the throne room floor to the secret door against the west wall. Gideon laughed.

A wisp of red smoke slithered out of Gideon’s sleeve and wrapped around Preston’s ankle, dragging him back across the room to lie at Gideon’s feet.

“Preston Northwest,” he purred his greeting, the red in his eyes glinting as a look of absolute terror crossed the King’s face. “Just the man I was looking for.”

“G-Gideon!” The King stuttered. “My favourite-”

“Save it!” Gideon snarled. “Come,” he ordered, making his way across the throne room floor, Preston being dragged along with him by the wisp of smoky magic.

When they stopped, Gideon sat himself down on Preston’s throne, trying it out for size. Preston rose to his knees, hands clasped against his chest. “Gideon, I-”

“Oh hush,” he rolled his eyes, kicking his leg out to knock Preston back to the floor. “You see, _Uncle Preston_ ,” he spat the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. “I’m going to kill you-” Preston whimpered, “-and then I’m going to take your throne.”

Preston was a proud man, but in the face of death he was willing to lower he bar and beg. “Gideon, please!” He cried. “You can have my throne, just please,” he paused for a shaky breath, “please don’t kill me!”

“Aw, Preston!” Gideon cooed. “You’re tugging at my heartstrings – really, you are.”

“Thank you!” Preston blubbered, bowing at Gideon’s feet.

“So I’ll tell you what…” Gideon hooked a finger under Preston’s chin and tugged on it, forcing the old man to look up at him. “ _I’ll kill you quick!”_ Gideon plunged a hand into Preston’s chest, squeezing on something for a second before ripping it out. Preston’s body slumped to the side, and Gideon kicked his feet up to rest his heels on Preston’s fractured skull. He squeezed the bleeding red lump in his hand, and the muscles spit under the pressure, dark red blood spilling from the tear. Gideon’s fiery eyes flicked to the heart in his hand, and he curled his lip in disgust, dropping the organ to the floor.

“Now” he hissed to Preston’s lifeless form, “It’s time to take care of those pesky Pines twins, once and for all.”

 

.

.           .

 

Mabel and Pacifica were in bed, Pacifica’s back pressed firmly against Mabel’s stomach as she breathed deeply. Mabel smiled at the blond head tucked neatly under her chin, though it didn’t reach her saddened eyes. She had no idea how Pacifica could sleep so soundly, especially after everything Bill had told them earlier that day. 

The genie had outlined Gideon’s plan; kill Preston Northwest, take the Kingdom of Gravity Falls, then expand to take the next and the next until he ruled over every kingdom in the Western realm. According to Bill, Gideon was already endowed with enough power to complete his plan in a matter of weeks, meaning Preston was most likely already dead.

Pacifica had asked to go to bed after that, refusing to say a word to anyone aside from a small request that Mabel stay with her until she fell asleep. Mabel had agreed, and that was how they had ended up here, curled up together in the dead of night, Mabel watching Pacifica as she slept. It was amazing, really – Pacifica looked so peaceful in sleep, none of the harsh front she put up showing in her features as she dreamt of whatever it was Princesses dreamed of.

Pacifica shifted against Mabel, rolling over, and Mabel quickly snapped her eyes shut – she knew watching the girl while she slept was a creepy thing to do, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught red handed.

Pacifica’s eyes blinked to adjust to the darkness, and she smiled at the sight before her – Mabel, cheeks pink and eyelashes casting shadows down her cheeks as she breathed deeply in sleep. Pacifica was going to miss this – waking up with someone next to her, keeping her warm and safe as she slept. She leaned closer to Mabel, pressing a small kiss to the girl’s forehead before she rolled out of the bed, turning her back to Mabel forever.

 _Okay,_ Pacifica thought to herself, _maybe not forever. One last look couldn’t hurt, right?_ The princess looked back over her shoulder, and Mabel looked right back at her. “Pacifica?” She breathed. “Wha-?”

“Mabel!” Pacifica’s cheeks flamed – Mabel hadn’t been awake when she’d kissed her, had she? _Oh God_ , she thought, _kissing someone in their sleep is such a creepy thing to do!_ “I can explain!” The princess gasped, showing her palms to Mabel as she stumbled back a step.

“You don't have to so that,” Mabel said quietly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her toes nuzzling in to the fluffy carpet below. “I know what you’re doing.”

Pacifica was silent.

“Okay! Mabel exclaimed, somehow managing to shout without raising her voice above a whisper. “Gimme a minute to get dressed and we’ll go!”

Pacifica’s mouth couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be open or closed, so it bobbed back and for between the two like a fish. “What?” She finally managed to shriek, her hand immediately clamping over her lips as she tried to force the sound back into her mouth. Quietly this time, she said, “You don’t think I’m stupid to-?”

“Oh, I think you’re a total idiot!” Mabel interrupted, shimmying her brother’s trousers up over her hips. She whirled on Pacifica, “But what sort of a friend would I be if I let you go off and do stupid things by yourself?” The word _friend_ made Pacifica flinch – she had it bad for this girl, she was beginning to realise – but Mabel didn’t seem to notice. “Do you think any of the guards will be loyal to you still?” She asked as she wrapped a belt around her waist. Pacifica tried not to eye the way the fabric clung to the girl’s legs – all her life she’d been told that it was improper for a woman to wear trousers – but Mabel wore them _so well_ -

“Maybe…” Pacifica answered, unable to give the girl her full attention. She watched Mabel’s fingers work on the buckle, her tongue absently darting out to wet her lips. She forced herself to look away. “If there’s any left, that is.”

Mabel frowned at the dark shift in the atmosphere. She reached a hand out to grab Pacifica’s, giving it a little squeeze before letting it drop. “Okay dokey then!” She smiled, and the pessimistic air was vanquished almost immediately. “Let’s go save the kingdom!” 

Mabel headed down the stairs first, expertly avoiding stepping on any of the creaky floorboards as she snuck out. Pacifica followed in Mabel’s footsteps exactly, and the two made it to the bottom of the staircase without making a sound.

Mabel crept into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of paper and taking it to the dimming candle on the table. She wrote a quick note to Dipper, explaining where she and Pacifica were going and stating quite clearly that he was not to follow them. She signed the note and stuck the corner under the candlestick, so her brother would be sure to find it in the morning.

Mabel turned to Pacifica, grabbing her hand and leading her out the door.

 

.

.           .

 

“We’ll be fine, so please don't follow us. Love from Mabel. Heart heart, kiss kiss, smiley face.” Dipper read aloud, frowning down at the bubbly pink lettering.

Judging by the position of the moon, it was just gone thee in the morning. He had gone to bed at one, so Mabel couldn’t have been gone long. He swiped a finger across his name, and the ink stayed put, but when he rubbed at Mabel’s signature the ink smudged. That put Mabel’s departure at between twenty and thirty minutes ago.

If he ran, he could probably catch up. 

Crumpling the note Mabel had left him into a ball and tossing it across the room, Dipper headed out the front door, not bothering to lock it behind him as he raced across the yard.

It took him less than half an hour to reach the palace, and he was surprised to find that the gates were open. He barrelled through the courtyard, sticking to the shadows, but even if he hadn’t there was not a guard in sight to stop him. He ran across the drawbridge connecting the palace to the surrounding fortress, and inside he found- well, inside the palace, there was anarchy. Bodies were strewn across the floor, slumped against walls and seeping blood. A few moved and groaned, but a great many more were still and silent, limbs and backs and necks twisted at unnatural angles. The stench of coppery death hung in the air, as well as the all to familiar crackle of power, thickening and darkening the atmosphere.

Dipper raced down the palace halls, slipping a few times on liquids he didn’t want to think about as he headed to the place where the magic felt the strongest. He turned one corner, and was bathed with light, artificial and burning. The door at the end of the corridor was wide open – blown off its hinges, pieces of the stone wall taken with it. A red light came from inside, along with a laughter that Dipper had grown to know all too well.

Dipper slowed to a walk as he grew closer to the door, barely making a sound as he slipped through it and into the throne room. The magic hung in the air was strong – Bill’s, bright and warm as the sun, and Gideon’s, an ice-cold glare searing his skin. 

Gideon had done quite a number on the place – two of the chairs against the North wall were smashed to smithereens, planks of wood and handfuls of stuffing scattered about the place, a few shards sticking out from the walls at sharp angles. There was blood on the floor, pooling around a body that Dipper somehow knew had belonged to Preston Northwest.

One of the chairs was still intact, and Gideon was strewn across it with a grace not befitting a man of his size. A smaller man was curled at the foot of the chair, back straight and proud despite his wrist being bound to Gideon’s chair leg by a glowing red chain. His golden eye flashed when Dipper slid to a halt in the centre of the throne room.

There were three glass boxes in the room, only one of which was empty. Pacifica sat in the centre of one, her legs pulled tightly against her chest as she tried to make herself smaller. Hundreds of snakes circled her, slithering over each other as they raced around the cage, although none of the creatures touched the girl. A perfect circle of clear floor surrounded her, almost as if they couldn’t get close enough to her to strike. Dipper wondered if Gideon was simply togging with her – giving her false hope that would be taken away at his command.

The other box contained Mabel, though there was nothing there that was actively tying to kill her. Mabel was pressed up against the glass wall closest to Pacifica, and she was saying something, though the sound didn’t break past the wall.

“Dipper!” Gideon exclaimed, claiming the attention of the newest arrival. “You made it!” The man looked away from his nails for a moment to glare at Dipper. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.”

Dipper’s face screwed up in anger, a vile taste in his mouth as he made eye contact with the man. “You won’t get away with-”

“Oh, hush,” Gideon interrupted, waving a hand at Dipper to silence him. “I’m the most powerful person in the world! I can get away with _whatever I want_.”

Dipper’s breath hitched – could Gideon have made the same mistake as last time? “Person?” Dipper asked, a small but triumphant smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’ve got news for you, _Gideon_! Bill isn’t a person!”

Gideon laughed. “Bill?” He prodded Bill with his toe, and the genie glared at him, eyes flashing red for a second before settling back to blue and gold. “Bill isn’t _anything_ right now! He’s more human than you are, and he doesn’t stand any more a chance of defeating me than you do, either!”

Dipper cast a look at Bill, who nodded, expression grave. Dipper deflated – that had been his last shred of hope. Without Bill, there was-

“Now- while this has been mighty entertaining, I’m bored! Let’s have a little fun!” Gideon flicked his wrist, and a chain identical to the one wrapped around Bill’s wrist shot out from under Gideon’s chair and clamped on to Dipper’s ankle, tugging on it and tripping him up.

Dipper landed on his side, just in time to see Mabel bring a hammer – he didn’t even want to know where she’d been hiding that – down on the glass wall. There was a dull thud as the hammer bounced back off the clear surface, dragging Mabel back with it and knocking her down.

“Tut tut, Mabel dalrlin’,” Gideon scolded, waggling a finger at her. “It just wouldn’t do to have you escape _now_. Not when I’ve just figured out the final touches of my plan.” Gideon waved a hand over the tank, and at first there was nothing, but then a thin sheet of water sloshed against the glass wall. Mabel scrambled to her feet as the water rose, reaching her ankles in a matter of seconds. Gideon chuckled at her panicked expression, then turned to Bill. “Cipher!” He shouted, unnecessarily loud for addressing someone sitting right next to him. Bill’s eyes flicked away from Dipper, turning from furious to unimpressed instantly as he stared up at Gideon. “You said I couldn’t wish for more wishes, but can I wish for more genies?”

Bill blinked.

“Answer me!” Gideon screamed.

Bill took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said. “You can wish for that.”

Gideon smirked, triumphant. “Then I do.” His eyes returned to Dipper for a moment, still glaring at him from the floor, and Dipper could have sworn Gideon’s eyes flashed back to their human blue colour for a second. “Oh, and while you’re at it,” he said to Bill, not taking his eyes off the brunet on the floor. “Make me more powerful, too. This was a good first try, but I think you can do better.”

Bill raised a finger, eyeing Gideon with something indescribable – like he wanted to laugh at Gideon as he inflicted worlds of pain on his very soul. “I think that’s two wishes,” he said, voice far more tame than his intentions.

A ball of red flame rose up from Gideon’s clenched fists when he shifted his gaze back to Bill, and he growled. “Then find a way to make it _one_ ,” he said, head cocked to the side and voice sweet, a stark contrast to the malicious curl to his lips.

Across the room, Mabel pounded against the glass of her box – the water was barely a foot away from the top now, and she had to tread water just to stay afloat. Next to her, Pacifica was screaming something, the snakes still avoiding her as she pressed her whole body against the wall facing Mabel, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh, Mabel!” Gideon exclaimed, sliding his legs off the arm of his throne to face her more comfortably. “I’d forgotten about you! It really is a shame that you and I couldn’t see eye to eye on this – such a waste of life to let you die.”

Dipper choked on his own stomach as it leapt into his throat. “Die?!” 

Gideon smirked. “Why, yes, Dipper dear. That’s what tends to happen when your _lungs fill with water_.”

Dipper’s stomach dropped back down to where it should have been, taking his heart along for the ride. “No,” he breathed. Then louder, “No!” He was on his feet and racing towards Mabel’s glass prison before anyone in the room could process what was happening. He plucked a plank of wood from the wall and started pounding against the glass, growling with frustration with every hit that didn’t do so much as mark his sister’s watery tomb.

“It’s no use, Dipper!” Gideon called from his stolen throne. “She’s as good as gone!”

The wood dropped away from his hand, and he began drumming at the glass with his fists, refusing to look up at his sister. Mabel’s head was arched back, sucking at the last sliver of air left in the tank, her hands clawing at the lid as if they could pull her through the glass and into the air. She wasn’t crying, not that anyone would know it if she was, and she was barely struggling anymore. Resigned to her fate, she took one last breath before allowing herself to sink to the bottom.

She pressed a hand to the glass, right over Dipper’s heart, and his fists beating at the glass stilled. Mabel smiled, no panic on her face as the tears started streaming down Dipper’s cheeks. He placed his hand against the glass, too, right over where Mabel’s was, and he sniffed, his tears slowing to a stop as he put on a brave face for her. She nodded her assurance that he would be okay, her smile turning sour as she fought to hide the pain of deoxygenation burning in her chest.

She blinked at her brother; blinked at their hands. Dipper had been by her side when she had come in to this world, and he would be by her side when she left it – she just hoped that he wouldn’t follow in her footsteps after only five minutes this time too. Dipper said something she couldn’t hear, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what it was. She nodded her head, _I love you too_ , she mouthed, a single tear mingling with the water in the tank.

And she took a breath.

Two things happened at once.

The first, was that Mabel didn’t drown. Water rushed into her lungs, and it was uncomfortable, but her body swelled with relief as the much needed oxygen flooded her system, filtering into her every cell and alleviating the burn.

The second, was that for a brief moment Dipper thought that for the first time in his life he was alone in the world, and a burning rage took over his mind. His knuckles stung where he’s punched the glass, his eyes burned where he’s refused to blink a second of his sister away, and his heart burned with the loss of the only person who’d ever loved him.

And then his body was on fire.

Yellow flame exploded from his core, sweeping down his arms and to his hands, the glass bubbling under his fingertips. His hands melted a hole in the glass and water rushed through it, slamming his body against the floor and extinguishing the flames as the flood pushed him across the room. 

Four sets of eyes stared at him - at his untouched clothes and his unmarred skin.

“What?” Gideon roared, eyes flitting between Mabel, who was gulping down air at an alarming rate, and Dipper, who simply stared down at his hands, bewildered. 

Bill was the first to recover from his surprise. He had been expecting Dipper to do something like this for a while now, though he hadn’t expected it to be so – he suppressed a giggle – explosive. “If anyone was wondering!” The genie said brightly. “I figured out a way to give Gideon everything he asked for in a single wish!”

The hold Gideon’s eyes had on Dipper didn’t lax as he growled, “Get on with it then.”

Bill grinned. “Righto!” He could already feel the magic rushing into his body, the waterfall of power more than welcome after a whole day spent with barely a drop. “You’re the boss!” He laughed, saluting to the back of Gideon’s head with a broad smile.

Mabel and Dipper were sitting together on the floor, wrapped up in a hug a lot less awkward than the others Bill had watched them share. They muttered something over and over to each other, and while he was sure it was all very touching, he had rather liked the idea of Dipper watching him regain his power. _And Mabel_ , he added quickly, just in case Dipper was listening in. _Mabel too. Dipper and Mabel. Both twins. Two of them. Not just Dipper. The Pines twins. Shooting Star and Pine Tree._

_Yeah._

Bill’s body was flooded with more magic than he’d ever absorbed at one time before, and he extended a tendril to influence Dipper to turn his head towards him, barely denting his reserves in doing so. The genie winked when brown eyes settled on him, and he grinned as he flicked his fingers at Gideon, shooting the bastard in the back with a bolt of lighting.

Gideon didn’t fly across the room like Bill had hoped he would – instead he rose up into the air, voice distorting horribly as he laughed. Barely a thimbleful of the energy Bill had harnessed was being transferred into Gideon, and thanks to all of the power the man had drained yesterday, the power that Bill had to put into him wasn’t enough that physical changes were forced to set in.

“I can feel it!” Gideon roared, his voice echoing around the room. “I can feel the-” Gideon screamed, two blinding white lights growing from his wrists, subsiding after a second and leaving two silver bands in their wake. The skin around them sizzled, bright red and bleeding, and Bill remembered the pain that his own shackles had inflicted on him so many years ago. “What?” Gideon shrieked, turning on Bill just in time to see the intricate black lamp materialise in the golden genies hands. “No!” Gideon cried, his legs swirling together as they were pulled towards the spout of the lamp. “Not like this!”

“Actually, yes!” Bill called back, smiling morbidly. “Exactly like this!”

Gideon stared at the genie, mouth wide open. “You won’t get away with this, Cipher!” he screamed, magic shooting from his fingertips as he frantically attempted to elude the lamp’s entrapment. “The other genies-”

“What other genies?” Bill asked, head cocking to the side as Gideon drew ever closer. “You asked to be more powerful – I turned you into a genie. You wanted more genies – there was one, and now there are two. And there will only ever be two.”

“No!” Gideon’s fingers latched on to one of the planks sticking out from the wall, splinters digging in to the skin as he held on tight. The skin broke and bled, and he cried out in pain, but showed no sign of letting go.

Mabel chose this moment to pull away from Dipper, and she looked up from across the room, eyes darkening as they fell upon Gideon’s desperate form pulling himself away from the lamp. “Oh no you don’t!” She yelled, rising to her feet and storming towards the new genie with a vengeance. Before Dipper could wonder what she would do, her hips were swinging around and her foot was slamming into his face, steel-toed boot and all. Gideon was knocked back, fingers slipping away from the wood, and his eyes widened a fraction before he was tugged towards the glowing black cell in Bill’s hands. Gideon screamed, a mangled sound of pain and defeat as the last of his body was sucked into the lamp, the lid clattering tinnily as it adjusted to Gideon’s size. 

Bill frowned down at the black metal, warmed by the boiling rage of the monster inside – Gideon wouldn’t be getting out of there for a long, long time. Bill waved his hand over the lamp, and the metal glowed blue for a split second before disintegrating into dust. Bill blew on the remnants of the lamp, and the black powder swirled away, the fragmented prison disappearing to a place where it would never be found. 

The chains bound to Dipper and Bill clattered to the ground before disintegrating, leaving nothing but two ugly red marks on hot skin in their wake. Across the room, the glass box Pacifica was sitting in melted away into, seeping into the ground and taking the snakes along with it. Mabel was quick to run towards the girl, wrapping her up in a hug so tight that Bill had to wonder if both girls were going to be starved of oxygen tonight. They spoke softly into each other’s ears, and with his powers back it would be easy to learn what they said, but something about the way they embraced each other seemed private, and it felt wrong to intrude. They smiled – after everything that had happened these past few days, they smiled, because it was all over now. They had survived the most traumatic thing that had ever happened to them, and they had each other to show for it.

He was so busy watching the girls that he didn’t notice Dipper sidling up to him, not until the brunet cleared his throat beside him. Bill turned his head to Dipper, eyebrow raised, but it fell right back down when he noticed the way Dipper looked at him.

“What's wrong?” Bill asked, waving a hand over Dipper’s face. “Your face has gone all _scary_.” 

Dipper breathed heavily. “What happened to me?” He asked. “Just now, with Mabel?”

“Well isn’t that just the question of the hour!” Bill evaded the question with a grin. At Dipper’s confused look, Bill shook his head, smile slipping away. He sighed, “I have no idea, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves goodbye to Gideon forever* That takes care of that! Now, on to more pressing matters - what the fucktruck is up with Dipper and why isn't he in love with that damned genie yet?! 
> 
> You'll find out...


	7. What Could They Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is superrrrrrr dialogue heavy and for that i am sorry

Pacifica breathed a sigh of relief as the hatch in the throne room swung open and saw Priscilla Northwest climb out, her hair hanging in ratty strands down the side of her tight-skinned face. Her dress was a wreck, torn and muddied, and there was a line of dried of blood staining her chin. “Mother!” Pacifica called, eyes wide as she hurried across the floor with her arms outstretched. She wrapped her mother in a tight hug. “Mother, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Priscilla patted her daughter’s back silently. Pacifica’s body shook, the tears – of relief or sadness she didn’t quite know – that she had held back finally falling down her cheeks and landing on her mother’s bare shoulder, exposed beneath a tear in her dress. “Yes, yes, darling,” the older woman drawled, avoiding eye contact with those watching the display.

“He’s gone! Father’s gone!” Pacifica sobbed against her mother’s neck, breaths turning to gasps as the last of her resolve broke down, the icy wall crumbling into nothing. There was no love lost between the girl and her father – he was too strict and she too free – but she loved him in a way that she supposed children would always love their parents, and she was far from ready to let him go.

“I know, I know.” Priscilla agreed, though there was no feeling in her voice. “It’s all very sad.” Priscilla’s hand stilled against her daughter’s back, then fell down to hang limp at her side, tired of such trite affection. She peered at Pacifica’s head against her neck distastefully, heaving a sigh as she wondered whether it was too soon to push the child away just yet.

In the end, she didn’t have to. Pacifica sniffed as she pulled away from her mother, standing tall and re-assembling her mask piece by shattered piece. She’d have time to grieve later, with Mabel – someone who could _actually_ comfort her, she hoped. “Don’t you- care?” Pacifica asked, her words bisected by a hiccup. 

“Of course I do, darling.” Her mother assured, though her voice was as cool and calm as ever. Her eyes were blue and glassy, no emotion shining in them as she appraised her daughter with a critical eye. “But we must keep up appearances.” She hooked a finger under Pacifica’s chin, angling it up slightly. “Chin up,” the woman said, an artificial smile taking over her lips. “You’ve _really_ got to work on landing yourself a husband now.”

Pacifica’s jerked her jaw away, her gaze subconsciously sliding to Mabel as pure dread settled heavily against her tongue. The brunette was huddled with her brother, their shoulders leaning against each other’s as they spoke softly to one another. The blond man – or, Pacifica supposed, genie – had disappeared into his lamp, grinning widely as he muttered about ‘curiosities’ and ‘abnormalities’. The room had grown deathly cold when he had left, like all the sunshine and light in the world had been stuffed in his pocket and taken with him. “What?” Pacifica finally asked, her voice nothing but a breath. She forced her eyes back on her mother.

“Come now, Pacifica. You didn’t really think that you’d be let off from your duties just because your father is-” she stopped, and for the first time a look almost like pain crossed her face. “The kingdom _needs_ a _king_.” 

Pacifica frowned, forehead wrinkling as she thought. “Why can’t I take over for Father?” she asked out loud, refusing to make eye contact with her mother for fear of what lurked in those judgemental blue eyes. 

Her mother guffawed. “You?” She laughed, a smile pulling at her artificial red lips. Pacifica glared, fire in her eyes, and her mother schooled her expression into one of calm criticism. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’re a _girl_ – the people would never allow it.” 

Pacifica sighed, helpless. “Can’t you at least let me try?” She saw Mabel watching her out of the corner of her eye, and the weight of the girl’s gaze gave Pacifica strength. She straightened her back. “Couldn’t I at least talk to the people? See what they think? I could-”

“No.” Priscilla cut her off. “My decision is final. I will invite every suitor you have not yet scared away to a ball, and you will pick one.” Pacifica’s icy wall was built back up in an instant as her mother said exactly as her father had so many times before – she had hoped that if even a sliver of good could come of his passing, it would be finally gaining her freedom from the kingdom’s ludicrous customs. “I don’t want to pick one for you, but I will if I have to. You know that you have to be wed by your eighteenth birthday, Pacifica. I don’t know why you’re making this so hard for everyone.”

Pacifica didn’t know what to say.

“Mummy-” Pacifica started, using the word for the first time since she was a child, but stopped. To her mother, this was nothing but a status symbol – _she_ was nothing but a status symbol. The sooner she was married, the sooner she could have children, and the longer the Northwest line would become. A ball, immediately after the death of the King, would call every smarmy gold-digging nobleman in the land to Gravity Falls, just waiting to pump her full of heirs. It would be a sign to the public that the Northwests would bow to neither magic nor heartbreak. She sighed in defeat – there was really no way that she was getting out of this.

“I know you don’t like it, honey.” Priscilla cooed, her fingers reaching out to tuck a strand of Pacifica’s hair behind her ear. “But it has to be done.”

Pacifica cast another look at Mabel. She and her brother sat in silence, both with looks of concentration on their faces, their hands in their laps and their legs crossed. They still leaned against each other, and Pacifica had to wonder if they did it to remind themselves that they were both okay, or if it was genuinely because they couldn’t sit up by themselves. When the twins were like this, Pacifica could really see the resemblance between them – both scrunched their noses up when they were deep in thought, their eyebrows drawn over glistening brown eyes as they chewed on their lower lips.

“Okay,” Pacifica breathed, never taking her eyes away from Mabel – as long as she had Mabel with her, she could do right by her kingdom without losing the one she truly loved. “For the Falls,” she sighed. 

Mabel was the first to break the silence between she and her twin. “What the heck just happened?” She asked – nether of them had wanted to be the first to bring it up, but the way they were pussyfooting around the subject was starting to get tedious. “Not to state the obvious,” she continued when Dipper made no move to stop her, “but breathing under water and spontaneously combusting are not things that people tend to survive.”

Dipper cast a long look at Bill’s lamp, the gold glinting in the light. When Gideon had held it, the metal had been dull, tarnished by the dark intent the maniacal little hellion held for the power, but now that Bill had regained control the metal was polished once again, reflecting his own intent for his magic. Dipper had no idea how he knew that. 

“ _He_ doesn’t have a clue, either,” Dipper answered after a moment, inclining his head to the lamp. “And if _he_ doesn’t know…” Dipper broke off, his tongue refusing to form the words he so desperately wanted to believe weren’t true. _Then there’s no hope,_ hung in the air between the twins, tense and awkward as the conversation lulled back to silence.

“Maybe the Stan’s know something,” Mabel suggested after a moments thought.

“Mabel,” Dipper sighed, “we haven’t seen the Stan’s since we were kids.”

If the Stan’s knew something about them – something about what was obviously wrong with them – than maybe they’d set off to find out a way to help. It wasn’t implausible that they’d gotten lost on their way back – though, ten years was an awfully long time to be lost for. Knowing her Grunkles, Mabel thought, they’d been so absorbed in arguing about which way to turn that they’d wandered off a cliff. That possibility was favourable to what she knew Dipper believed of their great-uncles. “Haven’t you ever wondered if there was a reason for that?” She challenged, barely above a whisper. 

“They didn’t want us!” Dipper snapped. Several heads turned to look at them, and he hushed his voice to a whisper when he said, “They would rather go off and see the world than take care of us.” He clamped his eyes shut and took a deep breath, calming himself, and when he looked back at Mabel there was a coldness in his eyes that she had seen only a handful of times before. She’d seen it enough for her to know that she didn’t like it one bit, though. “We were kids, Mabel,” he breathed, “and they _left us_.”

Mabel nudged Dipper with her knee, and he looked away from her – he had watched the hope dim in her eyes with every passing day once before, and seeing it back again, bright and alive as if it had never been gone, was enough to make his heart ache.

“It might not be so black and white, bro.” She said.

“Well even it isn’t – those two haven’t been here for ten years. What makes you think that they’re suddenly gonna turn up now, right when we need them most?”

Mabel smiled, eyes sliding over Dipper’s shoulder to stare at Bill’s lamp, addressing the genie inside without knowing if he could hear her or not. “Let’s call it a hunch.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow, lips popping open to say something, but Pacifica jumped in before he could. “Hey, Mabel!” She called, waving at the girl with the hand not nursing her injured hip. The woman she had been talking to had gone off somewhere, and neither twin could be bothered to wonder where. “Can you come over here a sec?”

“Yeah!” Mabel called back, before turning to her brother. “I never got to say thank you,” she said, a bright smile gracing her features as he stared at her with confusion. “Thanks, bro.” And with that, she clambered to her feet and trotted across the throne room to the princess.

If Dipper hadn’t been fairly sure his sister had been thanking him for trying to save her life – not that she’d ended up needing it – he would have wondered what she could possibly have meant. He rose reluctantly to his feet – the adrenaline had worn off, leaving only searing pain in its wake. He shuffled to Bill’s lamp, bending at the waist – his legs hurt more if he bent them – to scoop it up from the floor and tuck it into his pocket. The last thing anyone in the kingdom needed was for the lamp to fall into the wrong hands _again_. It had been bad enough the first time, he thought, and he did not want to repeat the past few day’s events because of another power-crazed munchkin obsessed with exacting revenge on his family – there were more of those than he was proud to admit.

Mabel skipped up behind him, poking him in the cheek to draw him back to reality. He blinked at her, and she smiled, though it stopped dead before it reached her eyes. “Cif said that we should go home without her. She’s sorting some things out here tonight, but she’ll be over to see us tomorrow.”

Dipper smiled back, less forced than hers as relief shone in his eyes, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they headed away from the devastation of the shattered thrones.

Both of them spared a look back.

The walk home was long, both teens’ muscles complaining with every step they took. They had both taken a beating at the palace, and the pain on top of sleep deprivation and starvation was enough to have Mabel collapsing on the couch as soon as they got to the shack. If Mabel hadn’t been snoring so loudly, Dipper would have carried her upstairs – but she looked comfortable and he was far too tired to be kept awake by her snores.

He took her shoes off before he headed to bed.

Dipper contemplated lying down and sleeping on the stairs a few times on the journey up them, but somehow he managed to convince himself to persevere on the route to his room. He was glad of it, too, when he flopped down on his bed, the sheets cold against his hot skin. He sank into the ancient mattress, limbs light and relieved as the pain in his muscles subsided.

Sighing through parted lips, he rolled over, already fast asleep. His jacket brushed against his side.

In the dark of his room, the blue smoke that spilled out of the lamp glowed brightly, dusting every nook and cranny with a blue light not unlike the glow of the stars on a clear night. Bill materialised next to Dipper, face scrunched up in confusion as he found himself horizontal with his face mashed against something cold and soft. “Pine Tree, what-?” He lifted himself up on his elbows and turned to look at Dipper. He suppressed a laugh. “Aw.”

Dipper’s expression was relaxed, soft breaths like sighs escaping his lips in a white cloud in the cold of the room. Bill smiled without realising he was doing it, reaching out to brush a strand of Dipper’s hair away from his eyes. His fingers stopped when they brushed against the birthmark, the slightest flicker of blue illuminating those dots, whether by Bill’s magic or Dipper’s the genie didn’t know. He retracted his hand.

Dipper was curled in on himself, knees drawn in to his chest and his arms wrapped round them. His body shook – something that Bill now recognised as coldness, and he carefully drew Dipper’s blanket up over the boy’s shoulders. Dipper smiled in his sleep, his hand curling around the quilt and drawing it up to his face. Dipper’s nose wrinkled as the blanket brushed against it, and Bill chuckled, tucking the warming quilt under the boy’s chin.

That was, in hindsight, a mistake.

Dipper’s hand grabbed hold of Bill’s wrist and pulled it close to him, bringing the genie along for the ride. Bill yelped as he crash-landed against Dipper’s side.

Dipper sighed when Bill’s warm skin pressed against his own, and he snuggled closer, wrapping a leg around Bill’s and pinning the genie beneath him. Bill stared down at the brunet, not sure if the lump in his throat was a good thing or not, but when Dipper’s fingers travelled down from Bill’s wrist to intertwine with his own and Dipper sighed against Bill’s throat, sending shivers down his spine, the genie decided that the feeling was definitely a good one.

This was going to be a problem.

Hours later and Dipper was waking up to pain. Then light. Then warmth. His arms wrapped tight around his hot pillow, and outside birds chirped noisily in the sunlight that not even Dipper’s eyelids could keep out. He sighed – last night must have been the longest rest he’d had in months – and buried his head in his pillow. Only… he could have sworn his pillow was softer than that.

“Morning!”

Dipper screamed.

His eyes blew wide as he instinctively rolled to the right, away from the warmth and over the top of the bed. He landed on the floor in a tangle of sheets, squinting through the bright light of the day to glare at the genie on his bed. “Bill?” He gaped. “What are you-?”

“You rubbed my lamp,” Bill explained with a shrug, eyes glinting with amusement. “Wouldn’t let go." 

Dipper blinked at the genie, eyebrows drawn and eyes narrowed. “When?” He kicked at his quilt haphazardly, trying to escape but somehow ending up even more ensnared than he had been before.

Bill grinned, “Last night.” He waved a hand to free Dipper from his fleecy cocoon, summoning his cane and extending it to Dipper to help him up from the floor.

Dipper wrapped his hand around the curve of the cane, and the genie pulled, hoisting Dipper off the ground. He pulled a little too hard, though, and Dipper stumbled forward with a yelp, ending up back where he started – sprawled on the bed next to Bill. Dipper blinked up at him, “You’ve been there since last night?" 

Bill nodded. “Yup!” The genie shifted, propping his head up on the palm of his hand. The movement brought him closer to the brunet, but neither of them stirred to recreate the distance. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?” Bill asked, his lips twitching into the kind of smile you make when you’re trying not to smile. “We had a wonderful conversation about-”

“Dipper!” Mabel yelled, her brother’s bedroom door slamming against the adjacent wall as she shoved it open. “I heard a scream! Are you- oh.”

She looked at Dipper, her eyes wide and her cheeks red as he blinked back at her, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Her gaze shifted to Bill, who somehow managed to smile at her without taking his eyes off of her brother. “Hi Star,” he greeted.

Mabel was quiet for a moment. “I am okay with this,” she finally said, a wry smile creeping onto her face.

Dipper’s cheeks were so red that, were Ford there, he would find them scientifically fascinating and write a report on them. Mabel turned quickly and left, ignoring Dipper’s stuttered calls of her name, and made to return to the living room. Though not before leaning back through the door to give her brother a knowing wink – she couldn’t resist. “Pacifica’s downstairs, when you’re ready!” She called out to him, skipping towards the stairs.

Dipper angled a glare at Bill. “Seriously?”

Dipper was quick to get out of bed, knowing exactly what Mabel was thinking and wanting desperately to get her to _stop_. He hurried downstairs, leaving Bill in his room – which may or may not have been a mistake – and met his sister in the kitchen. She had a brown suitcase set out on the table, stacks of colourful handmade jumpers and some – drab by comparison – skirts folded on the table.

Dipper froze. He was silent for a good few minutes, watching his sister dance around the kitchen from one place to another as she grabbed things to stuff into her bag. She must have noticed him at some point, but she didn’t acknowledge him. “You’re going with her?” Dipper asked, finally managing to reteach his mouth how to word. 

Mabel turned away from her suitcase, leaning back on the tabletop as she nodded. “Are you going to be okay here?” She asked, staring at Dipper’s feet rather than his eyes.

“Yeah,” Dipper said, too fast to sound anything but insincere. “I’ll survive – I’ve been on my own before.”

“What do you mean alone?” Bill spoke up from the doorway, and Dipper jumped, relaxing only slightly when Bill laughed at him. “ _I’m_ not going anywhere.” He stepped closer to Dipper and hopped up to sit on the counter next to him. He purposely pressed his thigh against Dipper’s side, but the boy didn’t notice. “You can spend some quality time with me!”

“Joy.” Dipper deadpanned.

“That hurts me, Pine Tree,” Bill said, clutching a hand to his chest and forcing a morose sniff.

Mabel grinned. “You’ll be fine,” she said, waving Dipper off and returning to her packing. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Dipper’s brow furrowed in confusion, “You’re not… staying there permanently?” He shifted his weight, just enough that Bill was no longer touching him, and the genie told himself that he was not disappointed by the loss.

He was lying.

“I thought-” Dipper breathed, and the words he didn’t say hung in the air between them. _I thought she would have wanted you to live with her._

“Oh, yeah,” Mabel said. “She asked me to! But… I couldn’t leave you.” Her shoulders were tense, and Dipper was filled with the heavy weight of guilt as she forced herself to remain chipper.

“You can go with her if you want to,” he said, surprising himself when he meant it. “I don’t want you to stay here just because of- Bill, what are you doing?”

The genie had taken to poking Dipper’s cheek with a finger, and when the brunet glared at him, Bill grinned. “Playing,” he said.

Dipper turned his head, and the genie’s finger brushed across his lips for a brief second before he leaned back, out of his reach. Bill’s extended finger hung in the air between them, and Dipper frowned at it distastefully. “Could you get that out of my face, please?” He asked.

“It’s not in your face,” Bill’s said. “ _Now_ it’s in your face!” Dipper took a step back before the genie could put his finger… _wherever_ he was planning on putting it, his lip curling.  Bill bit back a smile, and the lilt to his lips said that he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’re no fun.” 

Dipper growled, and Mabel laughed. “You’ll be alright,” she said. “And if you need anything you know where to find me!”

“Yup,” Dipper agreed, attention shifting from Bill to his sister. “That castle swarmed with guards that wouldn’t let me within a hundred feet of the gate.”

Mabel turned back to him, a grin splitting her face when she said, “Yes they will.”

Dipper snorted. “Have you forgotten-?”

“The stealing?” Mabel suggested. “The lying. The general disregard for rules? The _Stans_?” Mabel shook her head, “Nope! But they have.” Dipper looked confused. “Pacifica had us pardoned,” she explained. “In the eyes of the law, the two of us are as innocent as the first dewdrops of spring.”

“Oh,” said Dipper. In his periphery, he saw Bill’s finger coming closer to his face, and he swatted it away. “Thank her for me, I guess,” he said, ignoring Bill’s indignant harrumph. Dipper could almost hear him pouting.

“I will,” Mabel assured, a ghost of a smile hinting at her lips when she stepped towards Dipper for a hug. “You won’t even notice I’m gone,” she promised.

“Stay out of trouble,” Dipper said in reply, hoping to all hope that she was right.

She was so wrong.

Not three hours later, the nagging feeling of emptiness tugging at Dipper had driven him to scouring the house for a book he hadn’t yet read. Mabel was the only thing that brought life to the old house, and without her everything was too old, too quiet, too _dull_. 

He had searched every bookshelf in his room, then in Mabel’s, and found nothing. He was just about working his way up to entering Ford’s bedroom for a book that he _knew_ he’d never read when he remembered the yellow tome he’d taken from Gideon.

And that was how he’d ended up here – in the living room, cross-legged on the centre of the rug with a book emblazoned with the insignia of a seemingly sentient corn chip balanced on his knees. The book was less interesting that it had seemed back at the palace, the titles of the potions and spells boasting about magic when they were really just glorified herbal tea recipes. He had hoped – seeing all the yellow and the triangles – that there might be some information on Bill in there, but Dipper was over three hundred pages in and still he had found nothing about the genie – or any genies, for that matter.

He wished he had managed to pick a better book from Gideon’s collection. If he had been given time to examine the titles, he was sure there’d be something there about-

“Watcha reading?”

Dipper screamed. He slammed the book closed, covering it with his arms as the genie settled down on the floor in front of him. Then he realised that that was stupid, and he leaned back, revealing the cover to Bill.

“It’s the book I found in Gideon’s room,” he said, tracing the edges of the leather cover with a fingertip. “I was hoping it might have some answers about-”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Bill leaned forwards, his elbows resting on his knees and his fists supporting his head by the decline of his jaw. “Does it say anything about the guy on the cover?” 

Dipper’s finger halted on the corner of the spine, his eyes briefly flitting up to Bill before following the genies gaze back down to the triangle. “This thing?” He asked, tapping against the triangle’s bowtie. “No – I wasn’t really looking for it, but I didn’t see it on any of the pages.”

“Oh,” Bill said, trying his best to sound neutral – he was glad that there was no information about him in the book. His past was a sensitive subject, and if Dipper was going to hear about it he’d be hearing the truth, straight from the horses mouth. Dipper was giving him a funny look, and he grinned. “Handsome fellow, isn’t he?” He asked, nodding down at the triangle.

Dipper frowned, “…it’s a triangle, Bill.”

Bill smirked, _I wasn’t talking about the triangle_. Out loud, he said, “Some people like that sort of thing.” Dipper raised an eyebrow, and Bill continued, “I think he’s cute.”

“I guess so?” Dipper said, looking back down at the etching of Bill’s true form – not that he knew that, of course – a triangle to maximise magical reflection, built to withstand an overflow of power greater than the universe could throw at him. “In a missing member of the Mr Men kind of way.”

Bill shook his head, “I have no idea what that means.”

Dipper chucked, setting the book aside and devoting his undivided attention to Bill. “How long were you in that lamp?” He asked – it had to have been a while, there was just so much of the world that Bill didn’t know. So much technology that Bill had never seen before – some of it ancient compared to modern advances.

Bill frowned at the glowing gold object sat pride of place on the hearth, beneath a portrait of a woman with Dipper’s eyes and Mabel’s smile. “I don't know,” he answered honestly, “a couple of thousand years, probably.” 

Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Thousands? _How old are you?_ ” Bill fixed Dipper with a glare, not unlike the one Stan used to give people who called him ‘old man’ and ‘sir’. The brunet cleared his throat. “Sorry, uh- how old do genies typically live to be?”

Bill’s glare melted away and he shifted his weight from his fists to his palms – he had a feeling that if he started answering the boy’s questions, they’d never stop coming. May as well get comfortable. “The average genie? Maybe ten thousand.” Dipper looked awe stricken, his eyes seeming to focus in on himself as he tried to comprehend a life that long. “Me?” Bill continued, the light returning to Dipper’s eyes as they refocused on the world. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Dipper frowned. “Are you different? To the other genies, I mean?”

Bill shrugged, “Kinda.” Dipper gave him a look that clearly commanded him to elaborate, and he rolled his eyes. “A genies life force comes from its lamp. We’re given one in a ceremony on our eighteenth year, and with it comes all the other perks. The power, the lifespan, the shackles – all of it tied to the lamp.”

“So, the more powerful the lamp the longer the lifespan?” Dipper asked.

“Mm hm,” Bill agreed, half of his attention gone to playing with the loose laces of Dipper’s shoes. “You catch on fast, kid.”

“And-?” Dipper began, then stopped. He watched Bill’s fingers work with the black strings for a moment, taking a minute to decide whether to continue. “How powerful is yours?” 

One side of Bill’s lips twitched upwards, a tiny smirk audible in his voice when he said, “Very.”

“So you’re going to be alive for a while then?” Dipper asked. The intensity of his gaze burned the genies skin, and Bill refused to meet those eyes for fear of being blinded by what he found in them.

“That’s the plan!” He said after a moment, working on tying a knot in the laces that he couldn’t pull out. He lost interest in them after that. It was only then that he noticed the burn against his skin was gone, and when he looked up, Dipper was staring down at the pages of the book.

Bill watched him for a moment – watched Dipper’s eyes scanning the page, his teeth gnawing on his lower lip. His fingers played with the pages yet to come as he read, caressing the edges with care and respect. Bill shuffled a little closer to the boy, arching his neck to read the pages, but Dipper didn’t notice him. He reached out a hand and poked Dipper’s knee, trying to command his attention, but again the boy didn’t notice. That, or he was ignoring him. Bill had to wonder – if Dipper really was ignoring him – what he had done wrong recently. Certainly nothing that Dipper would hold against him, unless he held a particular fondness for children, but then again, how would Dipper even find out about… _that_. But it still begged the question – why was Dipper ignoring him?

“Hat!”

Dipper looked up from his book, eyes widening and body recoiling when he noticed how close to him the genie was. “What?” He asked, confused.

“I haven’t given you your hat back yet!” Bill announced. He held out his hand, and in a swirl of flames the hat materialised, floating over his palm. He smiled, triumphant that he had figured out why Dipper wasn’t talking to him. 

“Oh yeah,” Dipper said, taking the hat from Bill and tugging it onto his head. Dipper frowned – it may have shrunk a little bit in the void, Bill never did get the hang of proportions – but he payed it no mind. “I’d forgotten about that.”

Bill deflated. _Or maybe not._ Dipper made to go back to the book, but before he could resume, Bill reached out and snatched the hat back off Dipper’s head. “Hey!” Dipper reached out for his hat, offended, but Bill yanked it out of his reach, placing it on his own head. It was… weird, to say the least. It kind of squeezed around his temples, and the visor was a blue line across the top of his peripheral. It smelled like Dipper, though – like his jacket and his bed – a mixture of ginger and mint. “Bill,” Dipper said, his hand extended and the line of his brow unamused.

“Yes, Pine Tree?”

“Could I have my hat back,” he paused, “please?”

Bill smiled, though he was trying desperately not to. “Oh, you mean this hat?” He pointed to his head. “I dunno – do you _really_ want it back?”

Dipper breathed through his nose, and Bill was almost positive it was a laugh. “That would be nice, yeah.”

Bill giggled, “Come and get it then.”

Dipper sighed, his eyebrows drawing up, his mouth parting in a smile and his tongue dragging across the bottoms of his teeth. He closed the book, placing it behind him, and slowly looked back up to Bill. “You asked for it,” he warned, and there was murder in his eyes.

Bill wondered if this was a mistake. 

And then Dipper was on him.

Bill yelped as he was knocked back, the weight of Dipper’s chest pressed against his own doing funny things to his abdomen. Bill snatched the hat off his head and held it as far away from Dipper as he could reach, and the brunet growled. He stretched against Bill, and the genies legs parted – against his will – to accommodate him. Bill felt Dipper’s arm line up with his own, and then the hat was yanked out of his hand.

“Ha!” Dipper breathed, returning the hat to its rightful place with a small laugh.

Bill took a deep breath – if he had known that this was going to happen, he never would have said anything. _This is bad,_ he thought.Dipper’s legs were between his own, his hands on either side of Bill’s head caging him in. He could feel every breath that Dipper took against his chest, and feel the hot air of his exhales ghost across his skin. His stomach was flipping around like a fish out of water, and he didn’t even want to know what was going on with his groin…

“What’s bad?” Dipper asked, and Bill’s breath hitched – he _really_ had to stop forgetting that Dipper could do that! At Bill’s shocked expression, Dipper raised an eyebrow.

And then he dropped to the floor. 

Bill vanished from beneath him, letting Dipper crash the few inches to the floor as he rematerialized next to him in a cloud of smoke. “I’ve got to go,” Bill said, his eyes wide and confused as he stared down at the boy on the rug. The smoke climbed back up his body and swirled towards the lamp, almost as if it was being sucked in through the spout.

And then Bill was gone.

Dipper sighed, rolling on to his back and staring up at the ceiling. He wondered what he did wrong – if he hurt Bill when he was trying to get his had back. Then genie was one hell of a pouter, he’d give him that – with his high cheekbones and full lips and constantly half-lidded eyes, he was practically _made_ _for it_. Dipper wondered how he could make it up to him. Mabel would probably know. A deep growl filled the silence of the house, and Dipper sighed – he should probably make something to eat. Clambering to his feet, Dipper cast a long look at the lamp before heading out of the shack, tucking his laces – he had no idea what Bill did to them – into his shoes before his set off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the long wait, I'm sorry! It's probably going to be a while until I update the next one too because it's my birthday tomorrow and it's the last week of school before half term and then i've got two days of comic-con and THEN i'm going to the amazing tour is not on fire and THEN it's my brothers birthday and then i'm back to school with a maths exam and parents evening, so I'm gonna be rushed off my feet until the 5th of November-ish? 
> 
> Sorry :'(


	8. He's Not a Witch, Bill

Of all the things Dipper hated about Gravity Falls, he hated walking to the town alone the most. He was hardly ever without Mabel, the only times being when one of them was ill, and it had conditioned him to feel uncomfortable any time she wasn’t there with him. His unease was mostly because without her the Earth was eerily silent, the only sounds being the squawking of a few blackbirds and the rustle of the early autumn leaves in the wind. There was also all the spare time he had when he didn’t have to indulge her unorthodox conversation topics, which he would inevitably use to think, and then overthink.

And overthink he did.

Mostly about the genie – he must have done something wrong to make Bill run away like that. He couldn’t figure out what it was, though. He went over every second they’d spent together since they’d saved Pacifica for the second time, but he couldn’t come up with anything. Bill seemed like the type to hold a grudge, but not over something petty.

Maybe the genie just didn’t like him?

Dipper was more than relieved when he reached the hustle and bustle of the market place. It was busy, so loud with the chatter of hundreds of villagers and the cries of farm animals ready to be sold that he had no hope of hearing himself think.

Just the way he liked it. 

It was perfection. That was, until someone started talking to him. “Mr Pines,” an elderly shopkeeper greeted, reaching out and catching Dipper’s arm. He had a thick grey moustache, and his apron was splattered with egg yolk and flour – a baker. “For you,” he said, handing a loaf of bread wrapped in a brown cloth to the boy.

Dipper frowned at the offering, not reaching out to take it. “What?” He asked, eyes flitting from the loaf to the watery eyes of the old man, searching for a punch line he clearly wasn’t getting.

He didn’t find it.

“Why?” He asked. Glancing to the side, he found that the market had grown silent. Every eye was on him, watching, waiting for something.

“The princess,” the shopkeeper answered. “She has made us promise to never let you go hungry again. So, here-” he shoved the loaf against Dipper’s chest, and the boy’s hands instinctively rose up to catch it. “Take this.”

“I-” Dipper began, but he fell silent when he saw two children huddled towards the back of the shop. They were thin, their hair and clothes ratty, and they held on to each other for dear life, like they were all the other had. Dipper knew that feeling. He knew one of the children, too – Mabel had saved him from a horse the day before they’d met Pacifica. 

It felt so long ago.

“No,” he said, shoving the loaf back to the man. “Give it to _them_ , please.”

The shopkeeper gasped, “But-” 

Dipper was already walking away from him. “I’ll go see Pacifica,” he said, backing away from the now crowded stall with his hands raised in surrender. “You won’t give me your food again, I promise you.”

He turned on his heel, and he didn’t stop running until he reached the palace. 

Dipper breezed past the guards at the gate with no questions asked, and the first thing he saw when he moved to cross the great lawn - rather than use the path - was his sister. She was sat on the stone surrounds of a fountain, the water shooting up into the air behind her glistening in the sunlight. The glare of the sun hid her face from him, not that he would have seen it anyway. Her chin hung low, her arms held her knees to her chest, and her head was buried in the space left in the middle. He cleared his throat when he neared her, and she looked up warily, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the change of lighting. “Dipper?” She asked.

“Hey,” he said, jogging the last few feet to sit next to her on the fountain. 

“When you said you’d visit me I thought you meant in a couple of days,” She breathed. Her voice trembled, and something inside of Dipper’s chest dropped down to his stomach. “It’s barely been five hours, bro. I knew you’d miss me but-”

“I came to see Pacifica, actually,” Dipper said, cutting her off. He couldn’t bear to listen to the way her voice shook, like she was trying not to cry. He had to wonder what was wrong – she had seemed so happy when she’d left the house.

“Pacifica? Why?” She asked, and Dipper was sure he hadn’t imagined the way her eyes dulled and her skin paled as the name passed her lips. 

That probably wasn’t a good sign.

“She’s asked the people in town to keep us fed. They’re trying to give us food meant for their families,” Dipper said.

Mabel sucked a breath through her teeth, “Oh, that’s not good.” She shifted her weight, and her hair blocked the light from her face, casting a shadow over it, revealing how much of a mess she really was. Eyes, red and blood shot, gave way to white lines streaming down her cheeks. Her eyelashes stuck together and her tear ducts were still moist.

“Okay,” Dipper said, his throat tight at the sight of his bright sister cast in shadow. “What happened?”

“She’s betrothed,” Mabel whimpered, and any strength she had left crumbled as she crashed into her brother, arms winding around his neck as her tears stained his shirt. “Her mother’s forcing her to pick a husband by this weekend.”

“What?” Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed – he could have sworn that Pacifica and his sister were… _involved_. “But what about-?” _You_ , he thought. He didn’t have to say it for her to know what he meant.

“The kingdom needs a king, bro,” she said, leaning away from her brother and swiping at her nose with a sweater sleeve. She laughed – a self-depreciating laugh – and shook her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. True love only exists in fairy tales, I should know that by now.”

Dipper sucked in a breath – coming from Mabel, that was scary. “Mabel,” he sighed, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know that. You’re my twin, and I’m here if you need me.”

Mabel chuckled, a twitch of a smile peeking out before it was engulfed by the sadness, but it was enough – it was hope. “Mystery twins,” she said, eyes rising to look at Dipper, and there was a glimmer in them again, faint but true. “I’m okay,” she said, and for a brief moment Dipper believed her. “She has her duty, and she wants to do it. I was stupid to think that I-” her voice broke. “Her prince will make her happy, and… and that’s all I want for her.”

Dipper’s eyebrows drew in. “I-”

“Mabel!” Pacifica called, and both brunets turned to the balcony above an old oak tree. The princess leaned over the edge, her hair blowing in the wind and her eyes startlingly blue even from this distance. “Could you help me with something?” She asked, a dimpled smile crossing her face. “It’ll be fun!”

Mabel sniffed, the sound so pitiful it broke Dipper’s heart. 

“Yeah,” she called back. “I’ll be there in a minute!”

Pacifica retreated back inside, and Mabel turned back to her brother. “Do you want to come home?” He asked, speaking up before she could say anything.

She shook her head, no. “She’s just lost her father, and her mother isn’t her favourite person in the world right now,” Mabel explained. “She needs someone to take care of her.”

Dipper grabbed hold of Mabel’s shoulders, the touch feather light, and it weighed her down so much. “You’re too good for this world,” he said to her.

She smiled, but it was forced. “I know,” she said. “Now go! You left that genie alone in our house.” Dipper’s eyes widened as he remembered Bill, and his seemingly compulsive need to destroy their home. Mabel laughed, “We’ll be lucky if we still have a roof n it if you don’t head back soon.”

Dipper’s frown returned – Mabel was putting on a brave face, and it was awful. He wished she wouldn’t play pretend around him – he didn’t know when she’d started acting, starting pretending that everything was alright, but he had a feeling that her feelings weren’t the only things she was keeping from him. When had they grown so far apart? “Okay,” he said, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I’ll see you soon.”

He didn’t know when he and Mabel had lost touch – had stopped acting and thinking as one, had stopped being the Mystery Twins – but he was going to find her again.

He’d do it if it killed him.

 

.

.           .

 

Bill sat in the shack, legs crossed as he flipped through a book that was levitating in front of him.

He’d spent some time poking around the house after Dipper had left – he’d explored a room that he’d assumed was Dipper’s and one that he knew was Mabel’s, as well as one covered by a blanket of dust that he dared not disturb. There were a few locked rooms around the house, as well as one hidden behind an old book shelf. He had to magic his curiosity away so that he wouldn’t go in them. 

Ultimately, though, he had ended up stealing a book from Dipper’s room – he had tried one of Mabel’s first, but it was terrible. He swore an oath that if he ever met this Stephanie Meyer, he would make her pay for her crimes.

It felt like hours before Dipper finally came ambling through the front door, and Bill focused so hard on the paper before him he worried that he’d set the thing on fire. He couldn’t figure out any of the words, however – it was written in a language he hadn’t yet encountered, probably one that had been created after he’d gotten locked in a cave.

Dipper paused when he entered the living room. Bill didn’t look up at him. “You know that book is upside down, right?” The boy asked.

Bill flipped the book shut, and it folded in on itself, disappearing. “Where did you go?” He asked, raising his eyes to the brunet in front of him. Dipper was soaked through from the rain, droplets of water caught in his eyelashes making them glisten. His hair was plastered to his face, darkened by the water, but the lines of his mark were not visible.

The boy raised an eyebrow. “To see Mabel?” Bill watched him carefully as he shucked off his jacket, but didn’t say anything. When Dipper looked back at Bill, his eyebrows were drawn low. “Are you okay?” He asked, but he didn't sound concerned.

“Bored,” Bill answered, jumping down from the chair. He was taller than Dipper like this – barely an inch, the perfect height to look down on him with lidded eyes and a small smirk. He did just that. “So,” he said, taking a half step closer to the boy. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Dipper snorted, “Why do I have to do anything about it?”

“Well,” Bill said, taking another half step, “I’m your guest, and as my host you should be keeping me occupied.” 

Dipper laughed again, his eyebrow rising, “Seriously?”

Bill’s lips twitched, “Mm hm.”

Dipper broke their eye contact, shaking his head as he took a step away from the genie – the feeling of breath on his face was getting weird. “Alright,” he said, taking another step towards his coat and away from Bill. “What did you have in mind?” 

Bill had to think about that for a moment. It had been so long since he’d had to go somewhere to be entertained. Usually it was all in his lamp. Anything you could imagine came true there – if you wanted to read a book, there’d be one, if you wanted kittens for hands, you’d have them. But after a while, even the broadest of imaginations would run dry, and everything you conjured would be a cheap imitation of something else you’d already seen. It was torture.

But now…

“There’s a place in the forest I liked to visit, a long time ago. Come with me.”

Dipper glanced at the window, at the rivulets of water streaming down the pane. “It’s raining,” he said.

Bill looked, too. Water fell from the sky, fat droplets landing in the saturated grass splashing mud against the walls of the shack. Every now and then the sky would growl, a flash of light streaking across the grey sky just a moment sooner. “I can fix that,” Bill said, and with a wave of his hand the stormy clouds faded to clear blue. “ _Now_ will you come?”

“Can’t you just poof there?” Dipper asked, eyes flitting back to the genie that had already resumed staring at him.

Bill shrugged. “I _can_ ,” he said, drawing the word out, “but I don’t want to.”

Dipper sighed, squinting as the world brightened with the return of the sun. “Fine,” he said.

Bill grinned.

After about half a mile Bill started floating, because walking was _hard_ and the looks Dipper was giving him when he asked to stop to catch his breath were becoming unbearable. He was humming, too, but the boy didn’t seem to mind that. He said something about Mabel doing the same thing, but Bill wasn’t really listening at that point. Dipper’s hair had long since dried, the strands curling and flying out in all sorts of directions, fluffing up and falling into the boys eyes so that he had to push them back every couple of minutes. It was all Bill could think about – running his fingers through tresses of brown hair.

Worse still was that Bill was finding it difficult to so much as look away from the boy. He had changed out of his wet clothes into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, and the sheer amount of bare skin on show was enough to make Bill’s head spin. Last time he’d been out of the lamp clothing had been a lot more conservative, and Dipper parading around so freely with his ankles on full display was more than the genie was used to – he wasn’t even going to think about the collar bones or, God help him, the _thighs_.

Dipper cleared his throat, and Bill’s eyes snapped back up the full length of the boy’s body to his eyes. “What?” Dipper asked.

Bill’s nose wrinkled. “What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dipper asked. He’d stopped walking, and Bill let himself drop down to the floor.

“You’re looking really warm, kid. Your cheeks have gone all red.” He pressed a hand to Dipper’s cheek, just because he wanted to, and the boy swatted it away. “Do you want me to make you a cloud?” Bill asked.

“Don’t try changing the subject. Mabel looks at me like that all the time when she knows something I don’t.”

Bill said nothing. 

“Spill.”

Bill chuckled, shaking his head. “Pine Tree, I can assure you that while I do know many things,” he kicked himself back up into the air, moving along the path so that Dipper couldn’t see his face. He didn’t know the extent of the boy’s powers, and he didn’t want to lie if he’d be immediately caught out. “There is nothing that I am trying particularly hard to keep away from you.” He shrugged, “Sorry.” 

Dipper sighed and began trailing after Bill. Getting something out of the genie when he wanted it to stay hidden was a lost cause – he may as well give up.

The genie led the way from then on, the gap between he and Dipper widening further and further until they got to their destination. When they did arrive, though, Bill couldn’t resist looking back at Dipper, and he was glad that he did. The boy sucked a gasp through parted lips, his eyes wide and reflecting the pink and blue of the clearing as he stared at the crystal-spotted grass.

The boy took a step forward, and Bill was quick to catch him by the back of the shirt, halting him. “Don’t,” he warned, pulling Dipper back to his side. His hand didn’t leave the boy’s back. “Don’t step into the light.”

Dipper frowned, looking up at Bill with furrowed eyebrows. Bill wanted to smooth out all the creases on his face with his fingers. “Why not?” Dipper asked. His eyes flitted back to the clearing, and Bill could tell he was just _itching_ to explore.

Bill bent over to pick up a small pebble from the ground. He tossed it into the air once, catching it gracefully with a smile in Dipper’s direction. He then hurled it into the clearing, making sure it passed through a ray of blue light. As the pebble passed through, it grew, hurtling to the ground as it became the size of a small boulder. “That would be why,” Bill said.

Dipper’s eyes grew even wider as he broke away from Bill’s grip and headed into the clearing, carefully avoiding any rays of coloured light. Bill wished he could see Dipper’s eyes – they were the windows to the soul, after all, and Dipper’s were so hard to read that Bill wanted to stare into them every second until he was fluent.

Bill clicked his fingers, and he disappeared, rematerializing in the centre of the clearing. He sat down on the grass, his legs spread out in front of him, and he tapped the space between them. “Come here,” he said to Dipper. Dipper’s jaw dropped, and Bill could already hear the resounding ‘ _no’_ forming on his tongue.

Before Dipper could utter a word, Bill wrapped a tendril of magic around him, altering his perception of the invitation. Dipper’s mouth closed and he smiled, moving to sit down at Bill’s side rather than between his legs – not even Bill was powerful enough to make the kid do _that._ “You look tired,” Bill said.

“I am,” Dipper answered, and as if it had been rehearsed, he let out a long yawn.

“Maybe you should go to sleep,” Bill replied, more magic spilling into the air, and within seconds Dipper’s head was lolling to the side, landing gracelessly on Bill’s shoulder.

When Dipper awoke, barely five minutes later, he was lying flat on the ground. Small hands held his arms and legs to the floor, and tiny feet moved up and down his body as small grey creatures inspected him, sniffing at his skin and hair.

His eyes snapped open immediately, his head buzzing with the amount of magic that had been stuffed into it. He looked down at himself – at the small creatures with hollow black eyes and sharp blue teeth grinning up at him.

“Uh, Bill?” Dipper called out, wincing when the creatures dug their claws into his chest to keep hold as he spoke.

Bill looked up from the corner of the clearing. He was leaning against a tree, waiting for the Goblins’ verdict. A half eaten apple was in his left hand, and his right was behind his head. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, not bothering to look at the restrained boy a few feet in front of him. “They’re mostly harmless.”

Bill had hoped that the goblins would try and attack Dipper – he wouldn’t have let them hurt him, but the sheer fact that they’d tried would have made his job a whole lot easier. Goblins hate witches – a creature Bill had suspected Dipper and his sister to be – and would try to kill one if they came across it. But so far all they’d done was sniff him and pull his hair. 

“ _Mostly?”_ Dipper squeaked, and Bill laughed.

Dipper glared at him.

“ _Okay_ ,” Bill said, sobering immediately. “Sometimes they attack, but you should be safe.”

“Gee,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes so hard it was practically audible, “that’s such a comfort. Thanks.”

Bill beamed, “You’re welcome, Pine Tree!” 

“So,” Dipper sighed, ignoring Bill completely, “what sort of thing would make them want to attack us?” He was biting his bottom lip, struggling not to laugh as the small grey creatures pinched at his stomach. 

“If we became a threat,” Bill answered, letting his apple drop to the ground as he leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees as he watched one goblin try to wriggle up Dipper’s shorts. “Tried to capture one or light a fire?”

Dipper’s head snapped to the side, a handful of goblins shrieking as they fell off it. “Fire?” He yelled, the volume making the goblins wince, and one of them slapped the back of his head as its child began to cry. Dipper made sure to be quieter when he said, “I thought we’d already established that fire safety isn’t really my thing anymore.”

Bill chuckled. “Calm down, kid,” he waved Dipper off, “you’re not gonna light a fire.” He flicked his wrist back, a small ball of flame igniting at the centre capturing the attention of every goblin in the clearing, and Bill smirked, “I am.” His fingers flayed out, and the fiery blue whizzed across the grass, hitting the largest goblin square in the chest. It screamed, its skin bubbling an ugly red as it burned, and the smell of rotten meat overtook the air.

Half of the goblins turned on Dipper, the other half keeping their attention on Bill, and the genie grinned. “We should run now!”

Dipper was on his feet in seconds, grabbing hold of the genie’s hand and tugging him along as he bolted away from the clearing. The goblins were hot on their heels, teeth elongating to half the length of their heads as they hissed angrily at the two men. “Bill!” Dipper yelled, darting around a sharp corner. A few of the goblins ran into a tree, knocking them out, but there were still at least twenty snapping at their ankles. “What the hell!” Bill was grinning, laughing every time he felt a claw ghost across his calf.

“I told you,” the genie answered, funnelling magic down to his legs to keep them working as the lactic acid started to build up in his thighs. “I was bored!”

Dipper gaped as Bill laughed, launching himself over a small creak and pulling Dipper along with him. “So you’re gonna let a bunch of-” 

“Goblins,” Bill supplied helpfully.

“-eat us?!”

Bill laughed again. “They won’t _eat_ us,” he said. “They’ll just hurt us. A lot.”

“ _Bill_!” There was another sharp turn, and half of the goblins got caught in a bush. There were less than ten chasing them now, and even they looked a little haggard – a few of them were bleeding, blue blood dribbling down their faces.

“You know,” Bill said with an air of calm, “you could always wish us out of this situation.”

A goblin jumped at Dipper, it’s teeth sinking in to his calf, and he shook it off. “No!” He yelled at Bill.

The genie shrugged. “Suit yourself.” A goblin swiped at his leg, and Bill heard the tear of fabric and muscle as the claws slashed his calf. The genie laughed loudly, his hand breaking loose from Dipper’s as he whooped, racing ahead.

“I am going to kill you!” Dipper screamed after him as he was left to outrun the rest of the goblins himself.

 

.

.           .

 

“Mabel, could you help me with something, please?” Pacifica called, leaning over the balcony and cupping her hand over her mouth to make her voice carry further. The brunette was sat on the ridge of the marble fountain, her brother sat next to her with an arm wound around her shoulder.

Mabel turned around, smiling as she called back, “Yeah! I’ll be there in a minute!”

She turned back to her brother, and Pacifica returned to her room. There was a music box in the corner, ready to begin playing a waltz. Pacifica hadn’t danced a waltz in years, and when her mother had seen her with Mabel a few nights ago, she’d pointed it out. 

“Pacifica,” she had said, “your waltz is a disgrace. If you ever want to find a husband you must learn to dance like a lady, not a horse. I want you flawless when the suitors arrive this weekend, do you hear me?”

“Yes, mother,” Pacifica had answered. She wondered if she could just not dance and botch everything up, so that no man would want to marry her. But the thought of her kingdom was enough to spur her on.

“Good,” Priscilla answered, her nose so high in the air she could barely even see her daughter. “Run along, then! Practice!”

So Pacifica had returned to her room and called on Mabel.

Pacifica didn’t know what she was expecting there – she had hoped Mabel would be upset that she was betrothed. She wanted Mabel to suggest they run off together, leave the kingdom to find a new heir that was actually willing to do its job. She wanted her happily ever after. But Mabel had just smiled and hugged her, and wished her the best. Worse still, she had declined Pacifica’s offer to stay in the palace indefinitely. Pacifica could feel Mabel slipping through her fingers, like water – fluid and free and impossible to hold on to. 

There was a knock at the door, and Mabel poked her head into the room. Her hair was a mess and her cheeks were red, the light hitting her tanned skin just right, making it glow. Her eyes were light brown in the sun, like milk chocolate with swirls of caramel, and Pacifica wondered if she’d ever seen someone so beautiful in all her life.

“I need a dance partner,” Pacifica said, turning to the music box and opening the lid. Sweet music filled the room, dark and haunting and beautiful. “And as I recall you are quite skilled.”

Mabel breathed a laugh, her hands fiddling with her skirt as she stared at anything but the princess. “You want me to dance with you?” She asked, so quietly she wasn’t sure Pacifica had even heard her until gloved fingers were reaching out and taking hold of her hand.

“Only if you want to,” Pacifica said. She had no idea where this bravery was coming from, but she liked it.

Mabel smiled, raising her spare hand to Pacifica’s waist as she assumed the man’s role. Pacifica’s hand rested on Mabel’s upper arm, and she drew herself as close to Mabel as she comfortably could.

“Okay,” Mabel said, and she took the first step.

They circled the room, Pacifica apologising every time she stepped on Mabel’s foot, and the latter always laughed it off.

“I wanted to make you an offer,” Pacifica said once she was sure that she could concentrate on more than one thing - she had gone a whole minute of stepping on nothing but the floor.

“Oh?” Mabel raised an eyebrow, a wide smile reaching across her face.

“Come stay with me,” Pacifica said, spitting the words out before she lost her nerve.

Mabel’s face fell. “Pacifica, I-”

“I know you said you didn’t want to be a leech,” Pacifica cut her off, “so let me make a new suggestion. Come work at the palace, and we’ll take the money it costs for you to live here off your pay.” 

Pacifica was grasping at straws now – she just didn’t want to let Mabel go. It had happened so many times before, with childhood friends and family members. She would watch their backs as they walked through the castle gate, and they’d never come back for her. But Mabel was different from them – she was _more_. There was something about her that Pacifica just didn’t want to lose, because she knew she’d never find it in anyone else again.

“Pacifica,” Mabel sighed, “it’s not just me. My brother-”

“He can live here too!”

“Pacifica, _listen_.” Mabel stopped dancing. “We’ll still be friends,” she said. “But I’m not going to move my whole life here.”

If she moved to the palace, she’d see Pacifica with her new husband every day. She’d watch them go out together, raise a family together, and eventually she’d be layed off and forgotten about, just like every other maid that got too old to work.

“I understand,” Pacifica said, though she really didn’t. All she could think was that she had done something wrong – if she had she would strive to make amends, she just couldn’t figure out what was wrong. She didn’t know why Mabel didn’t want to stay with her.

“Hey,” Mabel said, hooking a finger under Pacifica’s chin and lifting it up. There were unshed tears in those blue eyes, and the last thing Mabel wanted was for Pacifica to be sad. “How about I stay here until you’re married. Dipper will be okay for a few months, and then after that you’ll be so busy with married life that you won’t even notice I’m gone.” Her smile was reassuring, though she didn’t know who it was meant for – the princess or herself.

“Sounds like a plan,” Pacifica said, smiling.

That gave her at least a month to convince her mother to change her mind about this whole thing.

She’d do it if it destroyed her.

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper leaned against the kitchen counter, bloodied bandages wrapped around both of his shins. His wrist ached from stirring at boiling water for too long, and his feet were starting to complain. Bill had entered the room a few minutes ago and had been standing behind Dipper ever since. He assumed Bill was waiting for him to turn around, and so Dipper made it his only goal to do the exact opposite. 

Dipper sensed the genie shift behind him, and he moved to stand behind Dipper. He was close – _really_ close – and Dipper could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“Hey!” Bill said.

Dipper jumped, splashing boiling water on his arm. He sucked a breath through his teeth as it burned his skin.

“Ooh, sorry kid,” Bill said. He wrapped an arm around Dipper’s shoulders and pulled the boy against his chest, running a hand over the red skin to soothe the burn

“It’s okay,” Dipper answered.

“So what’re you making?” Bill asked, looking down at the green lumps floating in the water.

“Food,” Dipper answered.

“What _kind_ of food?” Bill asked. He hoped it was jambalaya – he liked jambalaya.

“The edible kind,” Dipper growled.

Bill laid more of his weight on Dipper’s back and he pouted, his head dropping on to Dipper’s shoulder. “Are you mad at me?”

“For what?” Dipper asked. “Leaving my to get killed? In the woods? By goblins? No! I’m not mad about that at all! Why would I _possibly_ be _mad_ about that?”

Bill was silent for a moment. “I sense insincerity.”

“No!” 

“Okay, now I know you’re messing with me,” Bill said. “I told you I was sorry!”

“No,” Dipper said, “you didn’t.”

Dipper went back to stirring his food, and Bill continued to hang from his shoulders. The pressure was starting to hurt, and while Dipper was devoted to ignoring Bill for as long as physically possible, he was more concerned with his legs and being able to use them. “Bill,” he said.

“Pine Tree?”

“Could you get off me, please?”

Bill frowned, “Does it bother you?”

Dipper shrugged, “Kinda?”

“Then no!” Bill laughed. Dipper sighed heavily, and Bill poked his cheek. “You know, you could always _wish_ to get me off.”

Dipper snorted, “Poor choice of words.”

Bill snuggled into Dipper’s neck, his breath tickling Dipper’s throat when he asked, “Is that a no?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“No! I’ve told you before – if wishes make you more powerful, there is no way in hell I’m making one.”

“But why not?” Bill whined.

“Because I don’t trust you,” Dipper shot back.

Bill gasped, leaning away from Dipper to press a hand to his wounded heart. “I thought we had something special!” He cried.

“Liking someone and trusting someone are two very different things,” Dipper said. He took the pan off the heat and carried it to the sink, and Bill followed. He’d started floating so that none of his weight was on Dipper – he could recognise pain when he saw it – but his arms were still around the boy.

Dipper saw Bill’s smirk reflected in the window as the genie said, “So you admit you like me.”

Dipper shook his head, “I never said that.”

“It was implied.” Bill loosened his hold on the boy, slipping away from his back if only to poke him in the cheek. “You liiiiike me,” he sang, nudging Dipper’s hip with his own. Dipper’s cheeks grew red, and Bill gasped, his hands reaching up to squeeze Dipper’s cheeks between his palms. “Pine Tree! You never told me humans change colour!”

Dipper’s head fell into his hands and he groaned. 

Bill smiled, glad that their little fight had been forgotten, and he hopped up on to the kitchen counter. His clothes had been torn to shreds by the goblins so he’d had to change into something else. He’d modelled his new outfit on things he’d found in Dipper’s wardrobe – black skin-tight trousers, a yellow t-shirt and pink socks lined with blue triangles.

“So,” he said, swinging his legs, his heels drumming rhythmically against the cupboard beneath him. “How’s Star?”

“Not good,” Dipper admitted. “Pacifica’s getting married.”

“To Shooting Star?” Bill asked. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“She’s not marrying Mabel,” Dipper said.

“What?” Bill looked about as surprised as Dipper had when Mabel had told him. “But I thought they were together!”

Dipper shrugged, turning his back on the draining vegetables to face the genie. “So did I,” he said. “I think they wanted to be.”

Bill frowned, “ _Then_ _why_ _aren’t_ _they_?”

“Well,” Dipper said, leaning back against the counter. “Aside from Pacifica’s duties as the Princess, they’re both girls.”

Bill’s frown deepened. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s…” Dipper stopped, not sure how to phrase it. “It’s frowned upon.”

“Huh?”

“Uh,” Dipper had never had to explain this before. “Boys have to like girls, and girls have to like boys.” He said. The look on Bill’s face was priceless - like he was trying to decide between leaving the planet and its stupidity behind and turning into a raging fireball of death and destroying it before it could get any worse. Dipper would have laughed had the topic not been so serious. “And if they don’t,” he continued, “they’re supposed to pretend that they do.”

Bill leaned forward, interested in what the kid had to say, and more importantly, in the fire in his eyes when he said it. “And if they don’t pretend?” He asked.

Dipper shrugged, “Worst case scenario is they get disowned, maybe sent to the next kingdom. People are starting to become more accepting of it, but the old families would rather kill their child than have it be gay.”

Bill was silent for a few moments. The humans had been bad last time he’d been out, but it was never like this. Parents disowning their children because of something they had no power to change – it was savage. No wonder so many genies wanted nothing to do with them. 

Bill waited for the sound of water hitting the metallic sink to stop before he asked, “Have you ever courted a man?”

Dipper snorted. “ _Courted_?” Bill nodded, and Dipper shook his head, still smiling slightly. “No – I’ve kissed a few,” Bill felt a surge of hope, “but most of them were more suited to Mabel than me. I’ve given up on it now, anyway. Keeping Mabel happy is the only thing I’m really bothered about anymore.” 

Bill nodded, but said nothing else. _He_ more than _anyone_ knew about sacrificing everything to keep a sibling safe – it was how he’d ended up here, after all. But something about Dipper giving up everything he _could_ have seemed so much worse than Bill giving up everything he _did_ have.

Maybe he could do something about that. Stop Dipper from making the same mistakes he did. Then again, Dipper didn’t seem dumb enough to make the mistakes that he had made. Maybe he’d just let it play out – let the kid make his own decisions. If they were bad, then they could be failures together, and if they weren’t, then at least one of them would have done it right.

Bill shrugged the thought away, though, hopping off the counter and striding towards Dipper. He smirked as he pressed their chests together, reaching around the boy’s back for a piece of broccoli. His shackles heated up pleasantly as he breathed against Dipper’s neck, and he grinned when he stepped back and found Dipper’s cheeks on fire.

“Good talk, kid,” Bill said, ruffling Dipper’s hair, and he skipped out of the kitchen.

He felt Dipper’s eyes on him the whole way to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this bored you to literal tears, i'm sorry. i'm trying to fill the gaps between the last arc and the next one so that you have all the info you're gonna need, and it's making me feel like these are going soooo sloooooowly. they'll get good again soon (if they were even good before idk) so sit tight and hold on because my sadistic tendencies are coming out to play and they're gonna cause some pain real soon
> 
> also prepare for gay. there will be rainbows by the bucketload and they're getting thrown right at your face (don't worry, they won't damage you OR smudge your makeup - good ol' rainbows)
> 
> i'm gonna shut up now


	9. I Know What You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *twilight flashbacks*  
> *shudder*

Mabel liked walking through town when Dipper wasn’t there. It gave her time to listen to what was going on around her, and to think about what wasn’t.

It had been two days since Mabel had decided to stay with Pacifica for a few months, and while she’d assumed it would be impossible to run out of things to do in the palace, she _had_ managed to run out of things to wear.

She’d met Pacifica’s mother last night at dinner. The dining table was so long, Pacifica and Mabel at one end and Queen Priscilla at the other, and Mabel was filled with pity when Pacifica said that this was how it had always been, though usually it was her at the lonely end. There was little conversation, mostly because they had to shout to be heard, but once they’d finished eating Priscilla called them over, and they’d gone to see her. She had looked Mabel up and down twice – at her silk dress and sparkling jewels and perfect makeup (all courtesy of Pacifica). The queen was far from impressed with her daughter’s choice of company, and Mabel had soon been shooed away so that the princess and her mother could have a private conversation.

When Pacifica returned to their room, she told Mabel that the queen had tried to convince her to throw Mabel out. The princess spoke in her sleep, cursing her mother, and Mabel held her tight.

On Mabel’s first night in the palace, she had fallen asleep alone, but when she woke up Pacifica was curled around her, her face pressed against the brunette’s chest and their legs all tangled up. She’d had a bad dream, she said, about Gideon coming back and taking over again. Mabel insisted that they sleep together after that. They couldn’t sleep in the same bed, of course – the old families would never allow that sort of thing – so Mabel slept on the sofa at the foot of Pacifica’s bed, and they held hands underneath the covers.

Mabel frowned when she reached the shack. It was clean – much cleaner than usual – and she was sure that it had been painted since she’d last been there. _Now that’s not good_ , she thought, because cleanliness meant that Dipper had been cleaning, and if he’d done that then he’d been thinking, and if Dipper had been thinking then he’d been _over_ thinking. She was beginning to wonder if that was the only thing he could do.

She slipped into the house, treading carefully to avoid the creaking floorboards. Dipper was probably still sleeping – he’d never been one to wake up early – and she certainly didn’t want to face his wrath if she were the one to wake him. She crept up the stairs, skipping the ones she knew would make a noise, and stepped quickly across the landing. 

She poked her head into Dipper’s room as she passed. It was dark, the candles burnt out and the curtains drawn closed, but she could just make out her brother’s sleeping form. He was slumped on top of the covers, his shoes still on his feet, but a jacket had been strewn over his shoulders to partially protect him from the cold. One arm was tossed over the side of the bed, and Mabel couldn’t help a small giggle when she saw what it was attached to. Bill was lying on the floor, one arm strew across his face and the other at his side, his hand firmly grasping Dipper’s, even in sleep. _Get in there, bro_ , Mabel thought, still giggling silently as she continued down the hall.

She was quick to pull everything she owned out of her wardrobe and dump it into a bag, checking every garment first for holes where moths may have gotten at them. She skipped down the stairs when she was done, and slipped back through the front door, leaving no trace of her ever having been there.

Except for the note she’d left Dipper, that was.

She slammed the front door behind her, shaking the house, and the boy upstairs jerked awake at the sound. “What was that?” He asked. Magic poured out of him into the air, rousing Bill.

The genie blinked blearily, “What was what?”

Dipper didn’t look at the man on the floor. “There was a-”

“ _Oh_ , I forgot,” Bill interrupted. “I don’t care.” He pulled his blanket back over his head, and his voice was muffled when he said, “Go back to sleep.”

Dipper growled in frustration, “I can’t go back to sleep now! I’m gonna go look.” He rolled off the bed and took a step towards the door, only to be tugged back down by a hand wrapped around his own. Dipper frowned down at their interlocked fingers. “Can you let go now?” Dipper asked, shaking their adjoined hands for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Bill sighed, shaking his head, “No. I’m not gonna do that.” Dipper’s hand was warm in his own, and one of them was sweating – Bill didn’t know if it was him, but he suspected it probably was.

“Fine,” Dipper said, getting back up off the bed. He pulled on Bill’s arm, and the genie held on tight, thinking that Dipper was trying to pull away, but when his back was lifted off the floor he realised he’d made a mistake. Dipper caught hold of Bill’s elbow to steady him, and the genie scowled at Dipper’s triumphant smile. “You can come with me, then.” He said. 

“I’m not gonna do that, either,” Bill said, and when Dipper looked up at him there was a mischievous glint in his golden eye.

“No,” Dipper said. “Whatever that look is for – no!”

Bill grinned, “Yes!” The genie fell backwards, and Dipper lurched forward, pain tearing up his arm as he caught Bill’s weight. The genie bounced back up immediately, crashing into Dipper, and the boy was only just fast enough to catch Bill around the waist and keep them from falling to the floor. Bill’s head thwacked into Dipper’s, and both men groaned as a searing pain shot through their noses.

“You did that on purpose,” Dipper moaned, bringing a hand to his nostrils to check for blood. Finding none, he shoved Bill back and turned, stalking out of his bedroom and dragging the genie along with him. 

“You can’t prove anything,” Bill replied, struggling to keep up.

Dipper sighed, halting at the top of the stairs. “When is this going to stop?” He asked. He lifted their still clasped hands, regarding them with annoyance. Bill hadn’t gone more than three minutes without touching him in two days, and while he was adamant that he wouldn’t give in to the genie, it was becoming harder and harder to tolerate.

“When you give in and wish for it to stop,” Bill answered.

“And if I don’t?”

Bill raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the bannister with a lazy shrug. “Then you’ll be stuck with me,” he said, thinking that he’d be a very lucky genie indeed if that were to happen, “forever.”

Dipper frowned, and for a moment Bill worried that the boy had heard his thoughts, but all Dipper said was, “What about when I die?” 

Bill laughed, breathily and through his nose. “You think you can hold out for that long, Pine Tree? I’ll have to step up my game.” He winked, and Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Sixty years,” Dipper thought out loud, rubbing his chin contemplatively. It was prickly with stubble that he was too lazy to shave off. “I reckon I could do that,” he said, nodding slowly. He continued on his way downstairs.

“Sixty?” Bill coughed out from behind him, shocked. “You’ve only got sixty years left?” Dipper hummed an affirmative, and Bill choked on his breath. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Dipper answered, jumping down the last three steps and startling Bill when he was pulled along with him. He turned to look at the genie over his shoulder, “Eighteen in a week, actually.” 

Bill blinked. “I didn’t think humans died so fast.”

They were moving again – Dipper leading them to the kitchen. The tile floor was cold underneath Bill’s feet, and the hairs on his arms stood up as the freezing air stirred against his skin. The scent of flowers hung in the air, even though there were none in the room, but Bill couldn’t think about any of that, because the only thing running through his mind was _he’s only got sixty years left?_

“Oh, hey,” Dipper said, picking up a small piece of paper from the kitchen table. “I think it was just Mabel who was here.” The paper was a pale pink, the ink dancing across it in wild and graceful loops purple and unmistakably Mabel. Bill yanked it out of Dipper’s grasp, and Dipper huffed indignantly, “Hey! Give that back.”

Bill held the paper above his head, his eyes squinting as he tried to make out the fancy script. “Dear Dip-Dop,” he read out loud, finishing with a little laugh. His eyes slid over to the boy, glinting in the sunlight. “Dip-Dop? Do people actually call you that?” 

“Bill,” Dipper warned, his voice turning dark. He tried to glare, but it turned out as more of a pout, and Bill laughed again – this kid was just too cute.

“I saw you in-” Bill stopped to giggle at what came next. “Oh, Pine Tree, she is loving this,” he breathed, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dipper was confused, and really it was just too cute.

Bill just couldn’t resist.

He pulled on Dipper’s arm, hard, and the boy crashed into his chest. Bill quickly brought his other arm down to Dipper’s waist, holding him there. He leaned close to the boy when he whispered, “ _Us_.”

Dipper shrieked, his arms worming their way between their bodies to shove Bill away for the second time in one morning. “ _What?_ ” He gasped out, scrambling back.

Bill laughed at Dipper’s startled expression, grinning as he looked back down at the piece of paper. “I’m happy that you’ve found love,” Bill continued, batting his eyelashes at Dipper as he read. “I was starting to think it wouldn’t happen again.” Bill stopped reading. “Again?” He asked, looking up at Dipper with his eyebrows drawn.

Dipper’s cheeks were red now, burning so bright and hot with embarrassment that Bill was almost tempted to listen when Dipper said, “Bill, please. Just _stop_.”

But Bill had never been one to do things that were in his best interest.

“After Wendy,” he continued, pausing again to look up at Dipper and ask, “what’s a Wendy?”

He regretted his decision immediately.

Dipper was even redder this time, but the tint had changed slightly. He wasn’t embarrassed anymore – he was _livid_. The boy stepped forwards and yanked the note out of Bill’s hand in one swift move, his fist tightening around the paper and flaring up with a lick of yellow flame. “ **Stop** ,” he growled, and there was magic woven through his voice – powerful magic. 

Bill gulped, suddenly feeling very small. “Pine Tree, I-”

“Don’t care?” Dipper finished for him. “Yeah, I’d noticed.”

Dipper let the ashy remains of the paper fall from his hand, and as Bill watched the charred page flutter to the floor, Dipper stormed out the kitchen door and into the forest, not seeming to care that the ground was frozen solid and he wasn’t wearing shoes, or that he’d left his jacket as well as a potentially dangerous genie behind.

Bill watched Dipper’s retreating back, pretending that the flames jumping out of the boy’s fists weren’t his fault. He couldn’t convince himself, though. “Well, I fucked that right up,” he said, a confession heard by no one but the empty house.

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica shimmied a large cardboard box off a shelf high above her head, leaning back to catch it as it fell through the air. “Thanks for helping me clean out this room,” she said, handing the box down to Mabel, who stacked it neatly on the ‘throw away’ pile. “I don’t even know how long it’s been in this mess.” 

“It’s fine,” Mabel said, bracing herself to catch a princess or a box if anything went wrong as Pacifica worked the next box of old family heirlooms off the shelf. “I like-”

Pacifica screamed, arms flailing as she fell backwards off the footstool and straight into Mabel. The box clattered to the floor, the sides bursting open and old yellowed pages falling out and scattering across the room. “Oh,” the princess breathed, her heart hammering at her ribcage as strong arms wrapped around her.

“Sorry,” Mabel said, straightening up and leaning back so that the princess’s weight was mostly supported by Mabel’s back.

“For what?” Pacifica asked. Mabel was warm against her side - she’d forgotten how good it felt to be close to her, like settling down next to a fire after coming inside from the bitter cold. The two had hardly touched in days, except for their hands at night, when she was too asleep to even appreciate it.

“The box,” Mabel mumbled, arching her neck to look at the spilled contents of the box on the floor. “I think some stuff broke.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Pacifica said, waving it off. They were old scrolls and diary entries and party invitations from hundreds of years ago, the Northwest family history printed in black and white. It was a shame that most of it was a lie, really. It was so interesting. “It’s mostly junk, anyway.”

“Okay,” Mabel said, but she didn’t smile. She looked almost… _pained_ , actually. “Do you, uh-” she faltered, then took a deep breath. “Do you think you can stand up now?”

Pink bloomed across Pacifica’s cheeks. “Oh,” she gasped, staring down at the line where their two bodies met. She laughed, but it was awkward and forced. “Yeah. Sorry.” She slipped out of Mabel’s arms, and immediately the cold of the room enveloped her, icy fingers replacing warm hands. She shivered, but the other girl didn’t see.

Mabel was already walking away, crouching down by the broken box and picking up the fallen things, blazing cheeks hidden from the princess as she buried her face in her task. 

Pacifica did the same.

They said nothing, the silence deafening as the only sound to fill the awkward void was the rustle of paper and the brush of their fingers against cardboard. Mabel searched for something to say – she didn’t work well in silence - but everything that came to mind felt dumb and childish. Pacifica couldn’t even do that – she just focused on her breathing, trying to make it less obvious that her heart was racing a mile a minute and her head was spinning so fast she could just about manage to reach for the scrolls she was aiming for.

“What’s this?” Mabel finally managed to ask, picking up a scroll in much worse condition than the others. Where the other papers were yellow, this was brown, and while the other scrolls had been held together with colourful ribbon, this one was held shut by a hard piece of twine. A small tag hung off it, and Mabel flipped it over. The word _beware_ stared back at her, not written on the card but scratched into it, specks of red that she hoped wasn’t blood dotted in the cracks.

Pacifica took it from Mabel, pushing the tie up the brittle paper and unfurling it gently. “It’s probably nothing,” she said, carefully sliding a manicured nail under the patches where the paper had stuck itself together. “My family used to be occult freaks, collecting old prophecies and accounts of supernatural sightings. Silly things to keep rich people entertained,” she rolled her eyes under the strain of being connected to such a squander of wealth. “It’s not real magic or anything.”

“What does it say?” Mabel asked, leaning forwards to get a better look. Pacifica could feel the heat radiating off her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, revelling in it.

The princess broke the last seal and opened the scroll, her eyes widening as she recognised the first line. “Oh, I know this one,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “My grandmother used to recite it to me when I couldn’t sleep.

 

“And on the night of the cracked diamond soul,” she read,

“Beware to ye children, beware to ye all,

“When the son of the stars and the daughter of the moon,

“Will raise a great darkness from a watery tomb,

“Sink into shadows, sink into despair,

“And beware of the one who you-” She stopped.

 

“What’s wrong?” Mabel asked, all the breath knocked out of her as she followed the script down to the bottom of the page.

“The bottom’s burnt off,” Pacifica explained, running her thumb across the broken, blackened bottom edge of the paper. Mabel frowned, her eyes fearful as she read the words over and over again. Pacifica rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s nothing, really,” she said, eyes worried as the fear in Mabel’s grew with every line of the old wise tale she scanned. “Some false oracle making up pretty poems and calling them prophecies. It’s a bit of fun, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Mabel agreed, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the scroll, not even when Pacifica rolled it back up and placed it on top of the ‘throw away’ pile.

The princess didn’t see Mabel pick the scroll up and stuff it in her bag.

The weight of it in her palm made her whole arm ache, and the rough paper clawed at her skin. She couldn’t help this feeling of hopelessness, of a disaster she was powerless to prevent. She felt the implication of the words deep inside of her, battering her from the inside out. Something was telling her – _screaming_ at her – that this wasn’t fake, or fancy or fun, but a warning she should heed.

She had to show Dipper.

 

.

.           .

 

“Hey Pine Tree!” Bill greeted, creeping up behind Dipper after he was sure that the boy was calm and wouldn’t try to curse him to hell if he said the wrong thing. Again.

“Not in the mood, Bill,” Dipper growled, but the genie could tell that his heart just wasn’t in it.

“I can change that,” Bill joked, sliding his hands down Dipper’s back and giggling when he saw the utterly revolted face Dipper was making reflected in the window. Bill’s hands slipped around to Dipper’s stomach, fingers flaying out so the bottom ones brushed across Dipper’s belt, and the brunet scowled. Bill rocked his hips against Dipper’s, his head coming down to rest on the brunet’s shoulder, and the boy didn’t shrug him off.

Bill was enjoying himself, he wouldn’t deny that, and Dipper was finding the genies antics increasingly difficult to put up with. The snide remarks and the constant shadow on the curtain when he was taking a shower, _that_ he could deal with, but this – he looked down at the fingers tapping the buckle of his belt – _this_ was too much.

One of Bill’s hands slid up Dipper’s chest, and the boy forced himself to focus on his book and to not, under any circumstances, _move_. Bill was just dipping two of his fingers through the hole between Dipper’s shirt buttons when a throat was cleared.

“Uh- guys?” Mabel said, her hands clamped over her eyes as she stood in the doorway, her ears red hot. Embarrassment rolled off her in waves.

“Mabel!” Dipper screamed, jumping away from Bill and allowing his book to fall to the ground as he stared, panicking, at his sister. _I win_ , Bill thought, and Dipper heard him loud and clear – that was, if the glare that was fired in his direction was anything to go by.

“I can come back,” Mabel said, taking one hand away from her face to point behind her, suggesting that she would let them finish… _whatever_ it was she thought they were doing.

“No, you don’t have to,” Dipper said, taking a deep breath. “You can look now, too, if you like.”

Mabel took her other hand away from her eyes, breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief when she saw the good three metres of distance between her brother and the blond. “Okay,” she said, stepping into the living room. She moved to sit on the armchair, then seemed to think better of it, choosing to stand instead. “I was going to talk to you about-” she stopped, shaking her head with a tiny laugh. “I’m sorry. Do you realise that the table is floating?”

Both boys looked to the table in the dining area, Dipper’s eyes growing worried as Bill’s shone with excitement.

“Neat!” Bill exclaimed. He reached out and swiped a hand across the side of the table, and it spun in the air, wobbling slightly as it turned. “Which of you is doing this?” He asked, turning a wild grin on the brunets.

“I have no idea,” the twins said. At the same time.

Bill’s smile slipped off his face and he stared at them. 

 _They couldn’t be-?_ he thought, then swatted the notion away, because really, that was the stupidest idea he’d had in a long time.

“What?” Mabel and Dipper asked, together, the exact same expression on each of their faces.

 _No_ , Bill told himself, _no no no_. They were twins, that was impossible, and even if it wasn’t, they wouldn’t- no, _couldn’t_ be born with magic. It just didn’t happen.

“Stop doing that,” Bill said. 

“Stop doing what?” They asked. In unison. Again.

That shouldn’t be happening. Realistically, it couldn’t happen, unless…

Bill frowned. “Do either of you know how to contact your parents?”

The twins blinked, “What?”

“Stop doing that!” He snapped. His eyes flashed red for a moment, flames igniting in his pupils, and he clamped his eyes shut to smother them. “Listen,” he said, “I think I know what you are.”

Dipper and his sister exchanged a glance, and the boy said, “What do you mean?”

Bill opened one eye, focusing it on Dipper. His eyes were wide, staring at the genie like he had two heads – _or_ , Bill thought, _like I have all the answers they’re looking for._ “I thought you were witches,” Bill explained, slowly, like he was afraid to startle the teens. “But you disproved that yesterday – with the goblins. If you were a witch they’d have killed you instantly.” Dipper’s jaw dropped, but he didn’t have time to freak out because Bill immediately continued with, “But now…” The genie stepped forwards, closer to Mabel, and he leaned in to her, pressing his nose against her neck. _Mint and ginger_. “Dammit!” He exclaimed, his hands sparking with his excitement. “How did I not notice this before?”

Dipper caught his sister by the arm, drawing her behind him and, more importantly, away from Bill. “What are you talking about?” He asked, still confused.

“Your parents!” Bill reached out and grabbed Dipper’s face, squeezing his cheeks as he pressed their foreheads together and staring into the boy’s wide eyes. “Where are they?” He asked, then shook his head – that didn’t even matter. “ _What_ are they?”

“I-” Dipper cast a glance at his sister, begging for help, but she only shrugged. “I don’t know?”

Bill leaned away from Dipper, not removing his hands, and his eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“They left us when we were kids,” Dipper explained, his voice barely understandable through his crushed cheeks. “We never knew them. We don’t even know what they look like.”

“They left you?” Bill shook his head incredulously, “What is wrong with your species?” Dipper glared at him, and Bill released his face, stepping away with a sigh. “Who raised you, then?”

“Our Grunkles,” Mabel said, and Bill turned his attention on her.

“What the hell is a- oh, never mind. Where are they?”

“They left us, too,” Mabel said, voice small under the scrutiny of the gold and blue gaze.

Bill couldn’t help it – he laughed. “They left you, too?” Both twins were staring at him, and he threw his hands up in the air, completely and utterly _done_ with humans and their stupidity. “Are you sure you’re not the problem?” He asked, staring at Mabel with exasperation.

His view of the girl was soon blocked by an angry looking Pine Tree. “Don’t talk to her like that,” Dipper said.

“Well it’s not like I’m getting results talking to her any other way,” Bill responded, meeting Dipper’s glare with a cool indifference he just knew was fanning the fires in Dipper’s chest. He payed it no mind. “Are they still alive, at least?” He asked.

Dipper nodded, “We think so.” 

Bill sighed, his relief exaggerated with a clap, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Okay, good.” He looked at Mabel, leaning back against a table. “Star?” He said, his hands moving away from his mouth leaving him with a scheming smile. “You wanna make another wish?”

The twins looked at each other, and Bill just knew they were doing that weird mind thing where they spoke to each other with their eyes. He used to be able to do that. Mabel turned back to Bill, a little colour rising to her cheeks when she asked, “For the Stans?” Bill nodded. She sent a small smile at Dipper, who had turned a little green. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “I wish-” 

“Wait!” Dipper interrupted. Bill raised an eyebrow at him, and Dipper’s eyes turned hard and serious when they met Bill’s across the room. “How important is this?” He asked. There was hesitation in his voice – a reluctance Bill couldn’t understand.

“Well, that all depends,” Bill said. “How much do you like the idea of spiralling out of control if I don’t get the answers I need?”

Mabel rested a hand on Dipper’s arm, her eyes wide and comforting as they stared up at him. “I know,” he said, the small smile tugging at his lips contradicting the roll of his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Mabel smiled, reaching down to squeeze her brother’s hand. “Bill, I wish my Grunkles were here!”

The genie grinned, a bolt of lightning dancing across his knuckles and darting between his fingers as the cloud of smoke pooling at his feet grew bigger. Two smoky pillars rose from the ground, barely the size of an anthill at first but slowly growing taller until they were just a bit shorter than Mabel. The candles lighting the room flickered, a few of them blowing out only to be relit by one of the blue lightning strikes dancing around the room, crawling up and down the walls.

The smoke pooling from Bill’s palms stopped abruptly, and he clenched his fists, the grin on his face growing wider as the two pillars of smoke began to disperse, leaving two solid forms behind. 

One of the men blinked at Bill, a six-fingered hand poised above a weapon on his belt as he scowled at the genie with eyes that were all too familiar. “Where are we?” He demanded, his voice deeper than Bill had expected. “Who are-?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shrieked, cutting the man off as she pounced at the other one standing at his side. The old man – who was apparently called Stan – was tackled to the ground, his eyes widening as the girl’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He blinked in his confusion, looking around the room and instantly recognising his surroundings. He stared down at the girl for a brief second, his arms pulling her close as soon as they started listening to his brain again. “Mabel?” He asked, his voice strained as she cut off his air supply with the tight hug.

The other man – the one who had not yet been claimed by a Pines twin – finally noticed Dipper, and his arms fell limp at his sides as he stared at the boy. Dipper had been a child last time he’d seen him – barely eight years old. “Dipper?”

Dipper clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as he said, “Ford.”

Ford sucked a breath through his mouth, eyes drooping as the rage in Dipper’s struck him to the soul. “Dipper, I can explain,” he said, but Dipper was having none of it. The boy turned away from his uncle. 

“Ooh, chilly,” Stan whispered to his niece, who was still hugging him, a steady stream of saltless tears trickling through her clamped-shut eyes.

“Well!” Bill cut in, a bright smile on his face as he eyed the four brunets with curiosity and recognition – he had never seen these men before, but the way they held themselves and spoke seemed almost familiar to him, so much like the twins he did know that he felt he was meeting some alternate versions of them than two whole new people. “Touching family moment aside,” he said, shooting a cheeky smirk at Dipper, who glared, struggling to hold back a smile, “we have a few questions for you!” 

Ford frowned. “Such as?”

“I’m glad you asked, Sixer!” Bill said, grinning when the older man’s eye twitched at the name. “You see, what we want to know is,” he paused, just to be dramatic, “which one of you did the dirty with a genie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/xuR0DqbQGN8?t=49s


	10. Green and Yellow Don't Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in three days?? I should take a week off school more often!

“Instincts!” Bill shouted, making everyone in the room jump. He pointed at Dipper, a knowing smirk crossing his face.

Bill had felt out of sorts these past few days. The knowledge that there was something he didn’t know tugged at him constantly, but that was all gone now.

“Mind reading!” he said, grin wide and secretive. “The general ‘being-on-fire’ thing!” His pointed finger shifted to Mabel, “Protecting the ones you love! Breathing under water! Seeing the soul through the eyes!” She stared him incomprehensively, and he winked.

Stepping away from the four pairs of wide eyes staring at him, Bill raised his pointed finger in front of his face with a flourish. “And finally,” he said, hopping up on a table and tossing one leg over the other, “the smell.”

Eight brown eyes blinked at him, confused, and his smirk grew smug, leaning forward to say, “All traits usually presented by a genie coming into power.” 

Bill could see the cogs working behind Dipper’s eyes, but the two older men were unsurprised. Mabel was still trying to figure it out. “So, my question to you two is,” Bill said, pointing between the Stans. “Who helped create the mutant genie spawn?”

The Grunkle that Dipper had called Ford spluttered, and Bill wasn’t sure if he was laughing or choking. “Genie spawn?” He barked out.

Stan nudged Dipper in the ribs, a half smile on his face as he said, “Your friend sure has a way with words, don’t he, kid?”

Dipper breathed a short laugh, saying, “He grows on you.”

Bill grinned, but it soon fell away when Ford said, “I’m sure he does.”

He didn’t sound like he meant it.

The man levelled Bill with a stare, “And I’m afraid that neither of us are responsible for these kids.” Bill frowned – he had been so sure that one of them was their father, or _grand_ father at least. “Our niece – she was their mother.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mabel said, holding a hand up to halt the conversation, “For those of us who are a little slow on the uptake – what’s going on?”

“Well, Shooting Star,” Bill said, hopping off the table and grabbing Dipper by the sleeve, pulling him to the couch against the far wall and leaning against his side. “It would seem that you and your _delightfully_ prosaic brother here are only half human.” 

Mabel’s eyes widened, and she looked to the Stan on her right. “What?” 

The man’s eyes softened when they landed on her. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, sweetheart,” Stan said, winding an arm around her shoulder. “But you were so young when it started happening that-”

“When?” Dipper asked, cutting him off. The man looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed, confused. Dipper elaborated, “When did it start?”

“A few months before we left,” the other man – Ford – answered. Dipper didn’t look at him when he spoke, an emotion that Bill knew all too well crossing filling his eyes. “You started saying things – _doing_ things,” The man said. “We found someone to put a spell on you, make you normal for as long as we were alive.” Bill flinched when the man called life without magic _normal_ , but the man didn’t seem to notice, continuing with, “We set off to find a permanent cure immediately and- well, you know the rest.”

Bill stared at the old man, forcing his eyes to show no emotion, but unable to hide twitch under his eye as he snarled, “Cure?”

“Shut up, Bill,” Dipper said, gently slapping the genie’s mouth with the back’s of his fingers. Dipper looked at the man’s boots rather than his face when he asked, “If you did all that, then how come we started going off the rails again?”

Bill sucked a breath through the corner of his lips. “That was probably me, actually,” he admitted, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees, hands meeting in the middle to support his head. “Your souls must have sensed mine, and the magic within them broke free, just in case you needed it for protection.” The blank stares directed at him made him uneasy, and he shrugged, leaning back, “It’s a survival instinct.” 

Ford seemed to relax. “So it’s your fault?” He asked, smiling. “Great! Problem solved!” Three pairs of brown eyes focused on him, the eyebrows above them furrowing almost identically. “If you get rid of whatever he is,” Ford said, waving towards Bill without looking at him, “then everything will go back to-”

“Bill,” Dipper interrupted, his eyes raising to meet Ford's with a glare that could kill a god, “isn’t going anywhere.”

“Awww,” Bill cooed, nudging Dipper’s shoulder with his own, “Pine Tree!”

“Shut up, Bill.”

Bill did.

 _No one_ said anything, actually, the only sound being Mabel collapsing on the sofa opposite Dipper and Bill, her fingernails drumming against the cracked leather armrest. Eventually, though, the girl cracked, the silence making her head spin. “So…” she started, “what are we gonna do now?”

Bill grinned, “I’m gonna teach you!”

Both twins’ eyes snapped up to look at him, shocked, “What?”

“Oh, don’t you dare start doing that again,” he said, finger darting between the both of them in warning. “I’m going to teach you how to control your magic, so that your idiot uncles can stop looking for a _cure_.” He spat the word, feeling a swell of pride when the old men flinched.

“When?” Dipper asked. Excitement was building behind his eyes as he stared at Bill, and his fingernails were digging into the genie’s leg. He was just barely restraining himself from bouncing up and down.

“Soon,” Bill answered, not minding one bit when Dipper’s nails dug in deeper, sending a spike of pain up his thigh. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that this was important.” His eyes turned serious and he turned to look at Mabel, “If you two spin out of control, the results would be catastrophic.”

“All the more reason to get rid of it!” Ford spoke up, and Bill glared at him – this man’s closed mind was starting to get on his nerves.

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, insincerely. “And while we’re at it, we can prevent drowning by removing all the water from the world!” He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “And why stop there? _Next_ we can stop fires by getting rid of all the oxygen so they’ve nothing to burn!”

Dipper snorted, forcing back a laugh, and Ford looked to Mabel for help. She offered none. Ford asked, “Who is this guy, anyway?” 

“One of Dipper’s _friends_ ,” Mabel answered, winking at her brother with the eye the Grunkles couldn’t see, like she was keeping some big secret from them. “He’s a genie.”

Ford’s eyes flicked back to Bill - eyes that were so much like Dipper’s showing an excitement that couldn’t have been more different. “He is?”

Mabel answered Ford’s question, but Bill didn’t listen. He leaned in to Dipper, not taking his eyes off the boy’s weird uncle as he whispered, “Why is he looking at me like that?”

“He probably wants to experiment on you,” Dipper whispered back. “He does that.”

“Not to me he doesn’t!” Bill shrieked, somehow managing to do so while whispering, and Dipper bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Calm down,” he said, “I won’t let him hurt you.” 

Bill batted his eyelashes, head lolling to the side with his hands clasped over his heart as he swooned. “My hero!” He breathed, resting his head on Dipper’s shoulder, and the boy grew red as he fought off his laughter. 

“Dipper!” Mabel snapped.

The boy bolted upright, “Huh?” Bill was knocked away from him, and the genie huffed indignantly, shifting to lean against the cold armrest instead of the warm boy.

“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” Mabel asked crossly, folding her arms over her chest with her cheeks puffed out in some sort of pout. 

Dipper shook his head.

Mabel sighed heavily. She turned to the older men with a look that said, _can you believe what I have to put up with?_ “Grunkle Stan was just saying that it was night time where they were,” she explained, and Dipper frowned when he noticed that both men were in their pyjamas. “They want to go to bed,” she said.

“But their rooms are gross,” Dipper replied, and Bill remembered the room he hadn’t been able to enter and the one he didn’t want to disturb.

“That’s what I was saying,” Mabel answered, settling back down on her knees. “One of them can have my room, but-”

“Stan can have mine for tonight,” Dipper said, making sure to specify which Grunkle was welcome to use his bed and which one wasn’t. “Me and Bill will take the couch.”

“We will?” Bill asked. 

“Yes,” Dipper said, “we will.” 

The Stans gave them a funny look, but didn’t say anything, for which Dipper was extremely grateful.

“I’ll explain later,” Mabel promised them.

Dipper didn’t even know what kind of lie she’d come up with. He started to wonder if it would be best if she just told them the truth, but then he remembered what exactly she thought was going on between he and the genie and decided that that was the worst idea to ever be thought. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t corrected his sister yet – surely it wouldn’t be that hard to crush every hope she had for him.

The two old men grumbled an affirmative, rising to their feet with a series of clicks and groans. Bill found them hilarious for a reason that he had no hope of explaining to the members of the family who had started looking at him like he had a few screws loose. 

Mabel was quick to jump on Stan for a hug, and even Ford offered her a quick one, which she gladly accepted. Dipper gave Stan a small hug too, though it was more of a simultaneous chest-bump and pat on the back. Ford raised his arms to allow Dipper entry for a hug, and the boy ghosted right past him, forced indifference in his eyes. 

Bill almost died laughing.

The two men shuffled through to the stair room, still able to navigate the house with their eyes closed despite not having been there for a decade.

Mabel pulled Dipper in for a hug once they were gone. “I’m going back to Pacifica’s now – but first!” She pulled away from her brother, shoving her hand into the pocket on her skirt and pulling out a sheet of pink paper. “Here!” Dipper took the page and unfolded it, revealing a neat list of chores to do and items to buy. “I need you to get these things for Pacifica’s party this weekend,” she said, smiling innocently as Dipper levelled her with a look that said, _seriously_? “You’re both invited, so…” she trailed off awkwardly, still smiling, and Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he said, stuffing the paper into his back pocket. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, bro!” she said, pulling him in for another quick hug. “Be nice to him.”

“Oh, he will,” Bill said, winking at her. 

“…I was talking about Grunkle Ford,” she said, cheeks flaming red.

“I’m fine with Dipper, thanks,” Bill replied, wrapping his arm around his favourite Pines.

Mabel laughed. “Oh, I know you are,” she said, smirking.

“Okay!” Dipper said, breaking away from the blond and backing away from them. “So, I’m going to bed now,” he said, and quick as a whip he turned on his heel and bolted out of the room. 

“Wait!” Bill called after him, “Take me with you!” 

Mabel laughed, rolling her eyes. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said. 

Bill spared her one last wink before chasing after the boy, jumping him just as he was crossing the kitchen and crashing them both into the kitchen table.

At the top of the stairs, Ford caught hold of Stan’s arm, stopping him before he wandered off to bed. “Stanley, wait a moment,” he said. “Are we really going to just stop looking for some way to help them?”

“We’ve found one,” Stan answered. “That Bill guy – he said he’d teach them how to use it.”

“And you trust him?” Ford couldn’t help but be suspicious of this genie. He’d met a few in his time – all of them narcissistic, thinking themselves better than the rest of humanity because they could alter the elements while the humans had to work around them. They laughed at the prospect of science – laughed when humans said that they didn’t need magic to survive. And now this one, using magic like it had no price, was going to model two impressionable children to think just the same way. “If he hurts those kids-”

“But they’re not kids, are they?” Stan asked, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulders. “You saw them – they’re adults now. And if they want to learn what _we_ should have been there to teach them, then who are we to stop them?”

“We’re their family!”

“Are we?” Stan’s eyes were sad – tired, and not just because he hadn’t slept. He was tired of running. “We weren’t there to raise them. We didn’t hold them when they got scared or bandage them up when they got hurt or, I dunno, make them soup when they were sick!” Ford blinked at him, and Stan shook his head, turning away. “The only family those kids have is each other,” he paused for a moment, waiting for his words to sink in – for a smart guy, Ford could be a bit of an idiot. “And it’s _our_ _fault_.”

Stan slipped through the door, closing it behind him, and Ford was left in the darkness of the hallway. Stan was right – of course he was, Stan was always right about this sort of thing. Ford had seen the way Dipper looked at him, with eyes that were just as they had been the night he’d left – hurt and scared and alone, but with something else in them, too. _Resentment_. Dipper detested Ford for leaving, he could feel it. He was stupid to think that he could leave them to fend for themselves and not be remembered as yet another person to let them down – abandon them. 

Ford heard Dipper laugh, a smile tugging at his lips as it stirred memories of his sister. They had the same laugh. A darkness overtook him again – he would have known that if he hadn’t run away from them – from their power. But it had been so strong. Things would set fire when Dipper walked past, he would answer people’s thoughts without a care in the world. Strangers would flock to Mabel and follow her around for hours, comforted by the warmth she radiated. It was dangerous – people started to wonder, suggest that the twins be experimented on, sent to reform schools for children who didn’t know that magic was wrong. Priests would hunt them down in the streets, call them demons, accuse the Stan’s of practicing witchcraft and necromancy and _sorcery_. 

The twins didn’t know any of this, of course. Their memories were wiped, along with the memories of everyone else in the town. 

Removing their powers was the only thing Ford could think of to keep them safe. How could he let them live in a world where magicians were treated worse than murderers and criminals? The answer was – he couldn’t. Either he could raise them and wait for the day when their powers ended up destroying them, or wait for them to hurt someone else and then watch them be executed for their crimes. But of course he couldn’t do that – so the Stans did the only other thing they _could_ do. They found a witch, and she blocked their magic.

There was a condition, of course – all magic came with a price. For the spell to work, the Stans had to stay as far away from the twins as they could – forever. Ford had agreed immediately – the kids were strong, they’d find a way to keep each other alive.

Stan fought him on it _every_ _day_.

Every morning for ten years he would mention the twins, and every morning Ford had to look him in the eye and pretend that leaving them on their own wasn’t his biggest regret. But they were normal, they had each other, and they were safe – and that was all he wanted for them.

“Are you still standing out there?” Stan asked through his great niece’s door. 

“Yeah,” Ford answered, stepping closer to the wooden barrier between them. 

“She’s beautiful,” Stan said, his voice proud. “Dipper – well, I won’t say he’s beautiful, but at least his head stopped being that weird bean shape.” Stan laughed, and Ford shook his head, chuckling silently. “I may not have been able to watch them grow up, but I’m glad I got to see them grown up.” He said.

Ford leaned against the door, the wood creaking under the weight of both men. “He has your ears,” he said, finally, “poor sod.”

Stan barked a laugh, tugging the door open and laughing harder when Ford fell through it, just barely saving himself from head-butting the floor. Stan caught him by the arm, yanking him upright with a wide grin. “It’s good to be back,” he said, “even if it is a bit pinker than I remember.”

Ford frowned at the girl’s bedroom, glad to see that the stuffed toys she’d had as a child were still scattered around the floor, the bed as unkempt as the day they’d left. “It is,” Ford nodded. “We won’t leave them again,” he said.

Stan hummed in agreement.

 

.

.           .

 

The sun beaming down on the town was bright and hot, at odds with the strong winds and orange leaves of autumn. No one was inside, the parents taking the time to enjoy the marketplace while their children played on the grass. The Stans had elected to stay home and clean out their rooms, ushering their nephew and his genie out of the shack to give them more room to move around.

Dipper had managed to get almost everything on Mabel’s list, all except for the flowers she’d asked for. Skeleton flowers were rare, or so the girl in the flower shop had told him, but based on the way Mabel had underlined, circled _and_ drawn arrows pointing toward the words, Dipper guessed that they were important. 

The girl from the flower shop – a pretty redhead with thousands of freckles and bright pink cheeks - giggled as Dipper swore blind that he wasn’t buying the flowers for his girlfriend. She leaned into him, her hands never leaving his forearm, even when he raised it to take a drink from his water bottle. 

Bill watched from across the street, _fuming_ , banished after he’d killed a pot of hyacinths with a fire trick gone wrong. He had tried everything to reclaim the boy's attention, but the bright ball of sunshine that seemed physically unable to let go of his arm stole every drop of it before Bill could so much as get a look in. The hand that was wrapped around Dipper's arm moved down to his hand, and Bill had a hard time not setting the girl on fire with his glare, in a way that was not at all figurative. If he didn't know better, he'd have said that the lump in his throat and the heavy handed claws of ice running through him every time Dipper smiled at her... was _jealousy_.

“Hey Bill!” A cheery voice called, and the genie turned just in time to see Mabel barrelling towards him, a basket swinging around one arm and her skirts swishing around her booted calves.

“Star,” he greeted, turning away before she could attack him with a hug. He’d let her do it once - never again.

Mabel leaned her shoulder against the wall at his side, her skirt tickling his leg as it brushed against his skin in the breeze. “What’s on your mind?” 

“That I’ve never been so jealous of a bottle in my life.”

Mabel followed Bill’s gaze, eyes catching hold of Dipper just as his lips wrapped around the bottle, and Mabel snorted a laugh, slapping Bill in the arm. “You can’t just-” she stopped dead, and Bill raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were wide, locked on to the girl giggling away at Dipper’s side. “Oh my God.” 

“What?”

“That girl!” Mabel looked away from them, but only so she could glare at Bill. “Why is he talking to her?!” 

“I don’t know!” Bill said defensively. “She seems nice.” 

Mabel looked alarmed at Bill’s stupidity, as if there was something everyone knew that he was missing out on. “She’s trying to date Dipper!” 

Bill’s eyes latched on to her once more, “She’s evil.” 

Both Mabel and Bill looked back at the two, and for the first time Bill noticed that Dipper’s smiles were closer to being grimaces, and the adoration in the girl’s eyes looked more like obsession. “You should go over there,” Mabel said. “If I do it, Dipper will be mad. But he’s always mad at you so it won’t matter so much.”

The redhead smiled. “So, your uncles are back?” she asked. Her eyes were as bright and joyful as her smile. There was a gap between her two front teeth, and she used it like a weapon, wrapping its charm around everyone she flashed it at. “Is the younger one still hot?”

“I’m not gonna answer that,” Dipper said, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck shyly. For some reason, everyone in town thought that Ford was decades younger than Stan, and no one hesitated to comment on how he was by far the more attractive brother. Dipper should have known that Mabel would tell everyone about their being back, though. He was hardly even surprised when people started asking after them. 

The girl’s attention was suddenly captured by something over Dipper’s shoulder, and her cheeks grew almost as red as her hair when she said, “Dipper, don’t look now, but there’s a really hot guy coming over here!” 

Dipper turned around almost immediately, but the only person he saw was Bill, weaving his way through the throngs of people with about as much grace as a stampeding rhino – barrelling into the people who didn’t scuttle out of his way fast enough. “I told you not to look at him!” The redhead hissed, and Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re talking about Bill?” The genie grinned when he saw Dipper’s mouth form his name, and the brunet looked back at the girl – who had released his arm, to Bill’s overwhelming satisfaction. “Bill’s not hot!”

“Yes he is,” Bill said, coming up behind Dipper with a smile that looked genuine to anyone who didn’t know where to look. 

“He’s right,” the girl said, nodding unabashedly.

“Hi,” Bill stepped in front of Dipper, extending his hand, and when the girl took he it he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “I’m Bill – Dipper’s friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Dipper mumbled, but neither of them heard him.

“Evangeline,” the girl said, her cheeks growing hotter with every thump of her heart against her chest. Bill smiled, somehow managing to look both relieved and distraught when he let her hand fall back to her side. They were both bright, Dipper could see – Bill with dark skin and golden hair and the sun trapped within his eyes and Eva, with the sun setting fire to her hair and the light within her dark eyes brighter than any star in the sky. They looked like they had trapped every speck of light in the universe between them, and Bill’s unmistakable flirting irked Dipper to no end.

“Bill,” Dipper ground out, “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Before Bill could answer, Dipper had grabbed him by the cuff of his sleeve and was dragging him off in the direction of the forest.

“Where are we going?” Bill asked, waving goodbye to the girl as she disappeared behind the pulsing masses of the crowd. He let his smile fall off his face when she was out of sight, satisfied that his work was done. Hopefully, Evangeline would be able to think of nothing but him, and Dipper would be safe from her flirtatious claws.

“To the woods,” Dipper answered.

“Ooh, Pine Tree,” Bill sang, eyebrows disappearing behind his hair as they shot up. “So forward.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, letting go of the genie’s sleeve so that he could see him when they were talking. “We’re going to get flowers.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Bill winked.

“I am going to kill you if you don’t shut up,” Dipper said, and for a moment he believed himself.

“I look forward to it,” Bill purred, skipping ahead of Dipper and turning around to look at the boy, walking backwards and grinning all the while.

“Where are they going?” Pacifica asked, joining Mabel at the edge of the marketplace, where the brunette was covertly watching her brother.

“To get the skeleton flowers I asked for,” Mabel answered, not taking her eyes off the two boys.

“Mabel, we have a patch of those in the palace gardens,” Pacifica said.

Mabel turned to the princess with a smirk, “But they don’t know that.”

“Oh-kay.” She said. “What’s their deal, anyway?” Pacifica asked, settling down on the grass beside Mabel as she watched the two boys engage in what looked like a botched battle of rock-paper-scissors. Lots of slapping each other’s arms. “Are they together or-?”

“No,” Mabel said, when it became apparent that Pacifica did not intend to finish her sentence. “Not yet.” 

“Yet?”

Mabel nodded, turning to the princess with a smile. “But they will be. I know things,” she said.


	11. There's a Fine Line Between Love and Hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who were concerned for the happiness of Mrs and Mrs Mabifica, I give you - the gayest chapter I have ever written, princess and the pauper style ;)

“Bill!” Dipper yelled, barely audible over the sound of heavy footfalls crashing through the forest behind them. “I hate you!” The creature shrieked, and Dipper sped up, catching Bill’s hand as he overtook him, dragging him along.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Bill asked, leaping over a root sticking through the earth and landing again with a grunt.

“More!” Dipper retorted.

Bill huffed a laugh, glad to see a break in the trees coming up. Hopefully it would be downhill, and they could widen the gap between them and the… let’s call it an _agitated_ gremloblin. “At least we got the flowers,” he said, grinning. 

“Bill?” Dipper breathed, gasping when his foot caught on a root, but the genie kept him vertical.

“Yes, Pine Tree?”

“I hate you!” Dipper screamed, throwing himself over the ridge of the cliff and dragging Bill with him, plunging into the icy water below.

 

.

.           .

 

“Stand up straight, Pacifica,” the queen snapped, whacking her daughter’s back side with a long stick.

The girl struggled to straighten her back further, but her shoulders were already pushed as far back as they could go, and she was starting to feel dizzy, her lungs squeezed tight by the corset holding everything in. “If I stand any straighter,” she gasped, shocked by the strong hands grabbing hold of her shoulders and tugging them even further behind her, “the princes could use me as part of a geometry set!”

“Then you’re not standing straight enough,” the queen snapped, again swinging the stick at Pacifica, a sickening crack slicing through the room when it collided with her daughters thigh.

“And I thought I had a bad mum,” Mabel muttered, purposely slouching as much as physically possible both to annoy the queen and make Pacifica’s posture seem even better. 

She had been horrified at the lengths Pacifica had to go to to meet her mother’s standards. The princess’ back was black and blue, lined with dark bruises where the corset had bitten into her skin. Her thighs were covered in red lines, too, where the queen had gotten a little too enthusiastic with her beating stick.

“Hush, you,” Pacifica tried to laugh, keeping her voice low and her chest still when her mother’s eyes ghosted over her. “She’ll hear!”

“Ladies do not whisper!” The queen snapped, glaring at Mabel more than her daughter. ‘A bad influence’ she had called her, a perfect sneer on her artificial lips. Pacifica had almost broken down in peals of laughter right there. If Mabel was a bad example, then she was King Midas, ruler of the golden realm.

Mabel ground her teeth together, her glare hotter and sharper then the queen’s, and she said, “I don’t know how you live like this.” Only she did not whisper. In fact, she made a bit of an effort to be loud. There was murmuring among the guards, and Mabel heard one of them hiss at her to shut up before she got herself killed.

She would do no such thing.

“I beg your pardon!” The queen shrieked, voice high and stringy, her eyes blinking with shock, like she wasn’t used to being spoken to like an actual person.

“Mabel, stop,” Pacifica whispered, her eyes pleading, but Mabel stepped away from the grip Pacifica had on her arm, frowning.

“No,” she said, taking long strides across the ballroom to the queen. “It has to be said.” She didn’t break eye contact with Priscilla as she marched towards her, making sure to kick her skirt out so the woman could see the heavy brown boots beneath them.

“Then please,” the queen said, voice saccharine and smile sharp and venomous. “Say it.”

Mabel paused two feet in front of the queen, brown eyes ablaze as she stared into icy blues, the fire in her own doing nothing to melt the queen's. “You treat your daughter like a bargaining chip,” Mabel said, and she could feel Pacifica regretting all of her life choices behind her. “You make her stand like a ramrod, break her ribs with a corset, and for what?” She scoffed, “To get a husband? Is that all she is to you? An heir machine?”

Pacifica’s eyes were like saucers in her head, not even blinking as she looked at Mabel with fear and horror not for herself but for the girl. To speak to the queen like that was…

“The arranged marriage is a time-honoured tradition,” the queen gasped out.

“It’s a stupid tradition,” Mabel spat, eyes darkening. “ **Pacifica should be allowed to marry whoever she wants!** ”

Pacifica caught Mabel’s arm from behind, tugging her back, but the brunette didn’t budge. “Mabel, please,” she begged. Tears were brimming in her eyes. “Please don’t do this.”

To speak to the queen like this was treason, punishable by death, and Mabel knew it.

The queen blinked at Mabel, dazed, a cloud over her blue irises. “No, Pacifica,” she said, but her voice lacked any real presence. She was swaying a little, as if she was dizzy. “She’s right – _Pacifica should be allowed to marry whoever she wants_.” Priscilla repeated Mabel’s words back to them, a pink swirl twirling around the blue of her eyes like blood down a drain. 

Pacifica frowned at her mother, confused, but she wasted no time in tugging on Mabel’s arm again, dragging her as far away from the queen as she could. This time, Mabel came with her.

She’d felt the magic pouring out of her when she’d said it. Dipper had told her what it felt like – like plucking a piece of wool from a space far above your head and twisting it, manipulating it to do what you wanted. She’d felt it now, wrapping the magic around Priscilla and forcing her opinion into the woman’s brain – into her soul.

She shouldn’t have been able to do that – Bill said that they weren’t allowed to mess with free will. Not only that – genies weren’t powerful enough to mess with free will.

So what was that?

 

.

.           .

 

 

 

“Well, that was fun,” Bill sighed, arms stretched out on the sand as waves lapped at his feet. They’d escaped the gremloblin, no worse for wear – except for Dipper, who was soaking wet. 

“Says the one who doesn’t have to strip off to dry out,” Dipper shot back, yelping when he tripped over the hem of his trousers, falling backwards. Bill had already washed himself with wave after wave of magic, drying himself through, as well as layering a protection spell over his body to protect his clothes from the sand.

“If you want to be dry,” Bill said, “all you have to do is ask.” The genie watched as Dipper rung out his trousers, litres of water falling to the sandy floor. Some of it splashed Bill, and he curled his lip at the wet spots on his trouser leg, banishing them with a wave of his hand.

“You mean wish?” Dipper said, laughing. “No offense, but I’d rather stay like this.”

The boy gestured down at his body, and Bill smirked, taking the opportunity to scan every bare inch of him. Dipper had left his t-shirt on, though Bill couldn’t figure out why. It was soaking wet, and clinging to him in _all_ the right places. His hair was actually starting to dry out, now, curling a little at the ends. Dipper had swept it back from his eyes, annoyed by the constant dripping, and the birthmark was on full display.

Bill had wondered about it the first time he’d seen it. Birthmarks like that were rare even for genies, a mark to single out the ones gifted with a powerful lamp. Bill’s mark had been a bit more… _obvious_. He wasn’t born a yellow triangle, after all, though he had liked them long before he'd become one. He had brushed Dipper’s birthmark off at first – there was no way that Bill had met two genies and not recognised them immediately. Half genies, though - no one could blame him for not recognising two of those immediately. Technically, they were a new species. He felt better knowing that he had at least been half-right about the twins.

A repetitive clicking sound dragged Bill away from his thoughts, and he glanced at Dipper, who had his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. That did nothing to stop it’s shaking, though, nor did it quell the chattering of his teeth.

Bill sighed deeply, and Dipper turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why must you be so difficult?” Bill asked, pushing himself up off the floor. “I can’t leave you like that,” he said, gesturing at Dipper’s shivering form with annoyance. He clicked his fingers, a large flame dancing over Dipper’s body, drying it within a matter of seconds. “Seriously,” he said, shaking his head while Dipper grinned, tugging his trousers back on, “the amount of magic I give to you.”

Dipper paused, eyebrows furrowing as he looked up at Bill. He hadn’t put much thought into it before, but with all the magic Bill had used over the past couple of days, the genie might have been running dry. He didn’t look like he had when Gideon had sucked everything out of him, nor did he feel too small, but he could have found a way to hide that. 

“Thank you,” Dipper said, not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Bill smiled with one side of his mouth, and he swooped into a low bow. “It was my pleasure.” Dipper smiled, continuing with his trousers, and Bill laid a hand on top of Dipper’s, stopping him once again. “No, really,” he said, “seeing you in a wet shirt was quite enjoyable.”

The smile fell right off Dipper’s face. “I hate you,” he said, "you're awful, and I hate you."

Bill grinned. “No you don’t!”

 

.

.           .

 

When Mabel’s eyes blinked open, the world was dark, and the other half of the bed was cold. Pacifica had told her to get into the bed with her a few nights ago, figuring that if no one had barged in on them in middle of the night so far, no one was going to at all.

“Pacifica?” Mabel called out, hand stretching out to Pacifica’s side of the bed and finding it cold. She sat up slowly, drawing the blankets up around her shoulders when they were met with icy cold air, and she looked around the dark room.

The moon was on the other side of the palace, so the light filtering in through the open balcony door was minimal, a ghostly blue just barely outlining the furniture in the room.

Mabel had discovered that aside from furniture, Pacifica didn’t really own very much. The only things kept in her drawers were clothes and accessories, and one lonely bookshelf stood half full against the far wall, home to only educational books. Everything she wore was picked out for her by a lady royal, and the only thing she was given free range of was which of her pre-assigned clothes she could wear – on weekends, only. Mabel didn’t have a clue how Pacifica had managed to stay sane all these years – such rigorous scheduling would have driven her crazy after a couple of months.

Mabel slid out of bed, helped along by silk sheets, and she padded through the balcony door. The cold tile floor stung her feet, and he shrieked, jumping into the air when the cold rushed up her legs. Pacifica wasn’t on the balcony, so Mabel decided to lean over the railing, just in case the princess had fallen over it – she was exceptionally clumsy, Mabel had discovered. It was quite charming, actually. 

Pacifica was in the gardens, but not because she had fallen down there. The princess was sitting on the fountain, the moonlight catching in her hair and in her nightgown, making her glow. She looked ethereal – if Mabel didn’t know any better, she would have said the princess was an angel. She was hunched over something dark resting on her knees, her hair hanging over her head hiding it from view, and Mabel half expected to see feathery wings sprout from the girl's back.

Mabel was quick to run down the stairs connected to the princess’ room and into the courtyard, the grass tickling her feet as it slipped between her toes. She slowed when she reached the girl, her steps taking on a cautious edge as she crept towards the princess, as if afraid to disturb her.

Pacifica looked up when Mabel sank down to sit on the grass at her feet, her blue eyes like sapphires in the darkness as she looked down at her closest friend - her _only_ friend. “Hi,” she sniffed, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

“What are you doing down here?” Mabel asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She rested one hand on the stone next to Pacifica’s hip, leaning closer to the girl to lend her some warmth. 

“I found this,” Pacifica said, drawing Mabel’s attention to the dark brown leather in her lap – a book. She handed it to the brunette, and Mabel flipped it open, revealing a picture of a tiny blonde baby, cradled in King Preston’s arms. Mabel turned to the next page, breathing a laugh when a two year old Pacifica stared back at her, blue eyes too big for her head and blonde hair a few shades lighter than it was now. “Pictures,” Pacifica explained, “from before my father was crowned king.” She smiled when Mabel turned to the next picture – a family portrait from Pacifica’s seventh birthday. It was the first time her mother had allowed her to pick out her own dress, and she’d gone with a dark green atrocity that made her look like a toad. Her father had joked that the old tale was wrong – they'd have to find a prince to kiss her back to her beautiful self. “He wasn’t always this- _that_ bad, you know?”

The princess hiccupped, and Mabel looked up just in time to see the first fat tear roll down her cheek. “Oh, Pacifica,” Mabel breathed, and Mabel opened her arms just as the princess dropped down from the stone, falling into them. Mabel gasped, pulling away from the girl like she’d burned her. “You’re freezing!” She said, a shiver running through her, like she’d just hugged a sack of ice.

“I am?” Pacifica asked. She looked down at her skin – at the tips of her fingers, which had started to turn blue.

“Here,” Mabel said, pulling the sweater she was wearing over her head and handing it to Pacifica. It was the one she had knitted for her – she’d just finished it last night. “You like purple, right?”

Pacifica took the jumper, slowly turning it around to look at the design on the front, rather than put it on. There was a blue llama at the centre, a dozen smaller pink llamas in a line across the hem. “You made this?” Pacifica asked, remembering seeing Mabel hunched over it whenever she had nothing else to do. “For me?”

She smiled down at it, fresh tears bubbling up to her eyes as she thought about one of the last conversations she’d had with her father.

_“A bag of jewels? What’s wrong with that?! That’s a perfectly satisfactory gift! What more could you want?” Preston had roared, storming into one of her rooms._

_“Is it so much to ask to receive a gift from the heart?” She had asked him. “Something that took time and effort and consideration? Something that tells me that they want me for the person I am?”_

_“You seem to be forgetting,” Preston had growled back, “that you are not a person! You are a princess and you are a tool to connect our kingdom with another. You will choose one of the Princes we have set out for you to marry or I will choose one for you! Is that clear?”_

Pacifica laughed at the memory. It was funny, she had often thought, how power could change someone. How the man who had taken so much time to be the best father for his only child could turn into a monster who used her as a means to end feuds between the kingdoms and earn more money than he already had. 

“I did,” Mabel said, taking Pacifica’s hand in hers. Golden warmth travelled up the blonde’s arm, warming her to the core, and she sighed contentedly. “I wore it last night,” Mabel admitted, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Pacifica said, bringing the purple wool up to her face and inhaling deeply – a gift from the heart. It was better than she had ever imagined.

Mabel breathed a giggle, that was soon a full blown laugh, her head buried in Pacifica’s lap as she tried desperately to muffle the sound. Pacifica was laughing too – mostly because she didn’t know what else to do, and when Mabel looked up at her with eyes shining with delighted laughter, Pacifica couldn’t help but gasp. “Did you just smell it?” Mabel asked, peals of laughter already spilling out of her lips as she watched Pacifica’s cheeks grow red. 

“N-no!” Pacifica stuttered, bringing her hands – which were still bundled up in the sweater – to cover her face.

“You did it again!” Mabel gasped, and Pacifica shook her head, shoving the sweater to the side as she refused Mabel’s claims. “Yes you did!” Mabel laughed, her cheeks red as she struggled for breath. Her hand dipped into the frozen water of the fountain, and she flicked some at Pacifica, still laughing. “You’re such a sap!”

“No I’m not!” Pacifica denied, tossing her own wave of water toward the brunette. 

“Prove it,” Mabel challenged, her grin wide, and she shoved her fist in the water, droplets jumping out and splashing them both in the face.

They shrieked, a water fight for the history books breaking out, the screams of laughter on both sides heard by all who were awake in the castle. They ended up with more water on their bodies than there was left in the fountain, and only when Mabel noticed that the moon had slipped beyond the horizon did she stop laughing.

She turned her eyes on Pacifica, still teeming with joy, but a little more reserved now that the battle was won. “You finally did it,” she said, smiling.

“Did what?” 

Mabel took Pacifica’s hand, shuffling closer to her so she could hold it more comfortably. “That was your first real laugh,” she said, her cheeks glowing from the cold – or so she would tell anyone who asked. “Since your father, I mean.”

Pacifica’s cheeks were red too, her blush stretching up to her ears and, if she looked, probably all the way back down to her ankles. “It was?” She asked. The moon was gone, and the birds had started singing, and the beginning of a sunrise was just peaking over the mountaintop, lighting up behind Mabel’s head like a halo. The brunette nodded. “Thank you, then,” Pacifica said, a smile crossing her face. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

They were close – Pacifica didn’t know how she hadn’t realised before. Mabel was holding her hand, their knees were touching, and they were both leaning in to each other. She could lean forward and kiss her, right now, if she angled her head right. She could do it easily, if she wanted to. And if Mabel would let her.

She probably wouldn’t.

Pacifica had thought about it before, of course. Usually when she was lying in bed, Mabel flat out in front of her, hair illuminated by the light of the moon. She couldn’t help it. With tanned skin and dark hair and even darker eyes, Pacifica couldn’t help but fall madly in love with this girl, and she couldn't help it if her mind wandered off sometimes.

Mabel’s lips were soft – they’d been pressed against Pacifica’s cheek, and her temple and her forehead, but never her lips. But she wanted them to – she wanted to kiss Mabel more than she had ever wanted anything. She’d take the punishment - she’d take the ridicule and the poverty and everything that would accompany being disowned by her family. She would take any penalty her mother could throw at her, if she could kiss Mabel Pines on the lips, just once.

She could do it now. There were inches between them – no, not even that. There was an inch between them. Pacifica could kiss her right now. Lean in. Angle head. kiss.

Lean in.

Angle head.

Kiss.

Mabel stood up. “Come on, she said, holding out a hand. “We should try to get some more sleep in – we’ve a big day tomorrow.”

Pacifica took Mabel's hand, her smile turning into a grimace when Mabel looked away from her. Tomorrow was the party – the one that she’d been dreading all week. The one where she’d pick her future husband. 

“That we do,” she said, standing and allowing Mabel to lead her back to bed.

 

.

.           .

 

Bill fell into Dipper's bed, arms spreading wide as he bounced on the familiar mattress, the sweet smell of old books and an unaired bedroom and _Dipper_ hitting him in the face like it had done the first time he’d been in here. “I’ve missed this place,” he sighed, rolling over on to his stomach and pressing his head into the pillow.

“You slept somewhere else for one night,” Dipper commented, following the genie in and dumping his bag on the floor. 

“I know,” Bill said, his voice muffled by the pillow, “but that was too long.” He breathed a sigh, inhaling deeply, but his breath hitched half way. “No,” he said, lifting himself off the bed with a disgruntled moan. “This smells wrong,” he said, staring at the pillow as if it had personally offended him.

Dipper looked up from the book he had buried himself in with a frown. “What does it smell like?”

“Old men and disappointment,” said Bill.

Dipper gasped, annoyed. “I told Ford he had to sleep in Mabel’s room!”

Bill’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide. Did Dipper just…? “What was that?” Bill asked, rolling his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up, staring at Dipper with a mix of confusion and surprise.  “Was that a _joke_?” He asked. Dipper raised an eyebrow at him, but didn’t look up from his book. “Pine Tree!” Bill exclaimed, slapping Dipper’s arm affectionately, “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Dipper looked up from his book, eyebrows drawn up towards the middle, the face of someone who had had enough Bill Cipher for a lifetime. “Seriously?”

Bill grinned, and Dipper sighed, going back to his book and effectively ignoring the genie prodding at his thigh with a number of different objects.

It felt like hours for Bill, who had nothing to but watch Dipper read – which was okay for a few minutes. Like admiring a piece of art, it was entertaining to simply stare at for a while. But he could only watch one person look at the pages of a book for so long before he felt like his mind was being used as a pincushion for really boring pins.

“Pine Tree?” Bill asked. Dipper ignored him.

Bill swung his feet up to rest on Dipper’s thighs, shaking his hips until Dipper got annoyed and shoved him off, not even looking up to shoot him a glare or tell him to stop.

“Piiiiiiine Treeeeeee,” Bill whined. “Talk to meeeeee!” Dipper did not. 

“Pine Tree!” Bill snapped, accentuating his words with a kick to Dipper’s shin. “PineTreePineTreePineTree!” Three more kicks. Three more minutes of being ignored.

“Pine Tree!” Bill moaned, dropping his voice half an octave deeper and infusing it with enough breath to make a nymphomaniac squirm, " _Please_!". This did pique Dipper’s interest, but it was just a small glance towards the blond before he licked his fingers and turned the page, reading his book with even more focus than before.

Bill couldn’t take it any more. He glanced out the window and found that a whole ten minutes had gone by, nothing but the crinkling of Dipper’s turning pages to keep him occupied. 

Bill cast a glance at Dipper, and he threw his legs on to the bed, making sure to knock a book off the stack to capture Dipper’s attention. When Dipper caught Bill’s eye, the genie slung his head back and moaned, “ _Dipper!_ ”

The brunet’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, the door was thrown open, an old man with a fez on his head bursting through it. “Ah ha!” He yelled, pointing at the bed but keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “I knew you two were having sex!” 

If Dipper’s eyes got any wider they would have fallen out of his head, and his gaze flitted from his great uncle to his book, and then to the genie sprawled on his bed. “Bill,” he said, “why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.”

Stan looked up, confusion colouring his features as he looked at the three feet of distance between the two boys. “Come along, Stanley,” Ford said, walking past the door and catching hold of his brother’s collar. “Leave them in peace,” he said, dragging the man backwards down the hall.

Dipper shook his head, laughing, but he stopped abruptly when he caught Bill’s eye.

The genie was staring at him, something behind his eyes that Dipper had never seen before. It was strange – kind of warm and surprised.

“What’s that look for?” Dipper asked, eyebrow quirked as the genie continued to stare at him, enamoured.

“I have to leave,” Bill said, “immediately.” Smoke was already curling around his body, and before Dipper could protest, the genie was gone, leaving nothing but a blue stain behind. 

Bill didn’t pay attention to where he was going – the going part was the only bit he could really think about. He couldn’t believe this kid – every time Bill thought Dipper couldn’t get any more interesting, he did something to surprise him. It was impossible, he hated it. But he didn't hate Dipper, oh no, far from it. But he couldn't say he liked him, either. He wanted to hold him and touch him and dominate him and- _he wanted to kiss him to death._

“Bill!” A voice called, drilling into the genie’s head like sandpaper as soon as his feet touched the ground.

The blond turned, a frown in place – he knew that voice from somewhere. “Tad?” He asked the darkness.

“It _is_ you!” That voice exclaimed. “Thank God!” The owner of the voice materialised in front of Bill, purple smoke rushing from all around to one point, writhing until it formed the shape of a human. The smoke dispersed, and in it’s place it left a tall man – taller than Bill by at least six inches. He wore black trousers and a white shirt, with a purple waistcoat and tie. His hair was jet black and slicked back, equidistant lines intersecting it as if it had just been combed a moment ago. His eyes were black, but there was a faint purple tint to his sclera, glowing in the darkness of the woods. “I was looking for you for days!” Tad said.

Bill raised an eyebrow, “In the middle of the woods?”

“It was dark and kind of scary,” Tad said, shrugging. “Seemed like the kind of place you’d hang out.” 

“Oh, Tad,” Bill said, slinging an arm around the taller man’s shoulders. “I have missed you! Wait, no- I’m confusing have and haven’t again.” He pushed Tad forwards, and he stumbled into a tree. Tad managed to play it off, though, digging his foot into the dirt and swinging around the thin trunk. Bill breathed a laugh – and to think, Tad had remembered his old tricks for all these years.

“Nice to see you’ve still got that sense of humour,” the purple genie said, leaning his back against the tree with his ankles crossed – perfectly mimicking Bill’s stance.

Bill laughed again, shortly, and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, Barbie Squary-topia-” 

“And the nicknames!” Tad interrupted, arms rising into the air as he remembered all the things Bill used to call him. “How could I have forgotten about those?”

“ _Why are you here_?” Bill asked, ignoring Tad and continuing with his own train of thought – as per their usual.

“To warn you,” Tad said, the smile fading from his face as he stood up straight, eyes serious. “They know you’re here,” he said.

“What?” Bill growled. His eyes turned red for a moment, dark flames rising from the ground around him in a perfect triangle, and Tad backed away.

“You granted a wish,” he explained. “A big one, by the looks of it.” He eyed the magic surrounding Bill – yellow waves of power stronger than any he’d seen before. He had to hand it to Bill – when he said he was going to do something, he damn well did it. “And they sensed it,” he continued. “They’re coming for you.”

The flames surrounding Bill died down, leaving smoking autumn leaves in their wake. “When?”

“The first fleet arrived today,” Tad said, “but more are on their way. They’re sending the entire military after you, Bill. They know what you're capable of now – you won’t get away so easily this time.” 

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed, thinking back to something he’d been told a long time ago. _Genies always know when they're in danger_ – he wondered if that was what was going on with his wrists. “Is that why my thing has been acting up?” He asked. 

Tad snorted. “Your… _thing_?” 

Bill rolled his eyes, “What have I told you about your mind and the gutter?” He asked. “I mean these things.” He lifted his arms, and the sleeves of the sweater he had stolen from Dipper fell down around his elbows. The shackles glinted in the moonlight, the intricate carvings etched into the gold seeming to glow blue in the darkness.

“Acting up?” Tad asked, taking a step closer to his old friend. He reached out with a slender finger. The moment his skin touched the metal, a shock was sent up his arm, and he yanked it back with a scream. Tad stared down at his hand, bright red and throbbing – burnt to a crisp, but it would heal. His eyes were wide when he looked back at Bill. “How long have they been doing that?” He asked.

Bill shrugged, “A couple of days, I think? Why? What does it mean?”

Tad’s jaw dropped. “ _You don’t know?_ ”

“Yes,” Bill said, smiling. “I’m only asking because I really like wasting time!”

Tad shook his head, unimpressed. “How many years of High School did you miss?” He asked, exasperated. There was only so much of Bill Cipher anyone could take, and he was way past his limit.

“Thirty?” Bill said. “Give or take, because I slept through most of the classes I attended, too.”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Tad groaned.

“It was _boring_!” Bill moaned, defending himself, and the purple genies exasperation grew. “And there was the whole running away thing,” Bill added.

“Bill!” Tad’s head was buried in his hands, rubbing at the spot where he could already feel a headache blooming. “I-” he began, then stopped. “Do you know what?” He said, “I’m not even going to try. Just listen to me – this is important. The shackles do that when-” 

“ _Ow_!” Bill howled. He pulled back the yellow sleeves of his sweater, and the metal on his wrists hissed when they met the cold air. They were red hot – literally glowing red against Bill’s skin – and the dark skin on either side of them blistered and bubbled and _burned_.

“Fuck,” Tad growled, staring down at them. “Are they burning?” 

“No!” Bill shrieked. “They’re quite cool, actually!”

" _Fuck_ ," Tad growled again. “Who’s your favourite person in the world?” He asked. The genie stepped forward, grabbing Bill’s shoulders to keep him focused on what he was saying. Bill instantly thought of Dipper, and the blistering pain in his arms dulled for a moment, the pain becoming somewhat... _nice_. “Go to them, right now,” Tad ordered, and Bill nodded. The smoke was already rising at his feet. “I’ll catch up with you later,” the purple genie said, his words only just breaking through the barrier as Bill's body was already half way to the Pines’ household.

The blue mound of smoke disappeared from the forest, and not a moment later it took the form of the genie in the living room of the shack.

It took a few seconds for Bill to truly understand what was going on. The burning in his wrists had finally stopped, but there was another burning building up, right behind his eyes. Ford had Bill's lamp in one hand, and the other was raised above his head, poised to strike down across Dipper’s face at any second but frozen there as the man blinked at the newly appeared genie.

Bill’s eyes were on fire as he stared back at the older man, rage igniting them as his eyes darted from the lamp to Ford’s panic-stricken eyes and back again. Bill shot a pointed look at the lamp, and the metal began to grow hot in Ford’s hand. The old man yelped, dropping the lamp to the floor, but Dipper caught it. It didn’t burn him.

Bill marched towards the boy, stepping between him and his Grunkle, and he grabbed hold of Dipper’s shoulders, teeth clamping down on his lower lip as he scanned the boy for injuries. “Bill-” Dipper started to say, but the genie clamped a hand over his mouth before he could go further.

“Did he hurt you?” Bill asked.

Dipper sighed. “Bill, it’s not what it-”

“Did. He. Hurt. You.”

“No!” Dipper breathed, grabbing Bill by the wrists and taking the genie's hands away from his shoulders. Dipper tried to smile reassuringly, but the curious looks Ford was shooting him over Bill’s shoulder were becoming a distraction.

“Good,” Bill said, a demonic snarl behind his words that Dipper knew wasn’t intended for him. “Because bad things happen to idiots who hurt the people I love.” Bill turned to look at Ford over his shoulder, lip curling when he snarled, “Got that, old man?”

Dipper rolled his eyes, grabbing Bill’s face and turning it back to face him. “He wasn’t going to hurt me,” Dipper insisted.

“He wants to hope he wasn’t,” Bill said back, allowing Dipper to take him by the hand and drag him up the stairs, leaving a confused but amused Ford behind.

“Lie down,” Dipper ordered, shoving Bill into their bedroom when they reached the door, “I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” Dipper made to go back to living room, then reconsidered, turning back to level Bill with a pointed look. “I’ll deal with you later.” 

“What?” Bill’s nose wrinkled in confusion, but Dipper was already gone. _Why am I getting a row?_ He thought, crossing his arms and flopping down on the bed.

Dipper stepped silently into the living room, finding Ford hunched over a first aid kit on the dining table, struggling to bandage a burn. Dipper snorted when Ford pulled one end of the bandage tight, only to let the other end slip. “Give it here,” Dipper said, moving to the table and taking hold of Ford’s wrist. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes,” Ford answered, a little too quickly for Dipper’s liking. “I’m fine.” He shook his head, and Dipper raised an eyebrow, urging him to go on. “I just- what was all that about?” He asked.

“I don't know,” Dipper answered honestly. “But- rubbing the lamp summons him, and I think he might be a bit apprehensive about people touching it.” Ford raised his eyebrows – he’d never been able to lift only one, a fact that Dipper had taken great joy in rubbing in his face when he was a kid. “The last guy who had it was… _insane_ , to put it nicely. Gideon tried to-”

“Gideon?” Ford coughed. “The little punk who tried to force Mabel to marry him by the swing set?”

Dipper laughed, “Yeah!” Ford hissed when Dipper sprayed the burn with moisturiser, and the boy breathed an apology. “You remember that?”

“Like it was yesterday,” Ford said. They were silent for a moment, and Ford took the opportunity to say, “Dipper, I- I want you to know that I’m proud of you.” Dipper frowned, his hands ceasing their movement as he listened. “You had to grow up so fast to take care of your sister, and-”

“It was more the other way around, actually.” Dipper corrected, going back to wrapping his uncle’s hand. “But yeah,” he said, “I know what you mean.”

“And I know that you idolised me,” Ford said, his throat growing tight as he was flooded with memories of a tiny Dipper dressing up in an oversized labcoat, begging him to take him on his adventures. “And I know that my leaving was probably traumatic for you, but-” he stopped, as if he had lost his train of thought, and he tried again with a new question that he had no chance of messing up. “Can you forgive me?”

Dipper sighed, pulling the last tie of the bandage tight and pressing a plaster to it for good measure. He looked up at Ford, sighing again, and he meant it when he said, “I think I already have.” Dipper stood up, his chair scraping against the tile floor, and he pointed at Ford the same way the old man had pointed at him when he was a child. “Just don’t do it again,” he said.

And Ford saluted, just like Dipper had always done, a smile tugging at his chapped lips when he said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dipper smiled, turning his back on his old uncle – and leaving the clean up to him, too. He headed upstairs, careful to avoid stepping on the loud spots and waking someone up.

Dipper slipped into his room, checking to see if Bill was asleep – he was. He smiled at the blond’s sleeping form. Bill slept in a different position every night, most of the time wrapped around Dipper but other times sprawled all over him, legs in places they shouldn’t be and hands in places they _definitely_ shouldn’t be. It never failed to surprise Dipper that Bill could trust him so deeply after such a short time, though. He was totally vulnerable like this – Dipper could do anything to him, and the genie was such a heavy sleeper that he probably wouldn’t notice, either.

Not that Dipper thought about doing things to Bill in his sleep. Okay, maybe once. But it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded!

Dipper leaned over Bill, careful not to kneel on anything that could come in handy later – like _fingers_ or _toes_. _Not_ anything else. The brunet wriggled under the covers, slipping into the pocket of warmth that always surrounded Bill and pressing his chest against the genie’s, his legs slipping easily between Bill's.

They only slept like this when Bill fell asleep first.

Dipper blew out the candle on his nightstand, and darkness fell upon the room. Everything was bathed in moonlight, pretty blue outlines on every book and discarded garment and piece of furniture. 

But Dipper wasn’t looking at any of that. Dipper was looking at the man lying next to him.

The moonlight dyed Bill’s hair silver, the shadows in those curls an ethereal blue. His lashes cast dark shadows over his cheekbones, and he made the slightest whistling sound when he breathed through his barely parted lips. His freckles glowed in the dark – something Dipper had been immensely fascinated by for the first few nights – but now they were just another thing that made Bill who he was. 

And what a remarkable person that was.

Dipper sighed, closing his eyes and wriggling closer, bringing one hand up to rest on Bill’s hip. He always pretended it ended up there accidentally, and Bill always believed him – _thank you Grunkle Stan_ , Dipper thought, _for teaching me one useful skill before you buggered off._

Bill muttered something incomprehensible, and Dipper shook his head, breathing a small laugh. _Sharing a room with someone you love is like sharing a room with an open flame_ , someone had once told him.

And he was so in love with Bill Cipher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mabifica! is! in the docks! it will be setting sail shortly!
> 
> as for the billdip, if you were thinking that it's all been a bit rushed, good! because it was! and i have reasons! they'll be explained later!


	12. Written in The Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there are 15 pages of pure billdip in this chapter

“ _Yes_ ,” Dipper moaned, arching his neck as he made a sound that was down right _carnal_ , taking another bite of his breakfast. He was eating something known only as ‘ _the_ _thing’_ by Dipper and Stanley, and ‘ _not this shit again’_ by the other (more in touch with what he should _not_ be putting into his body) Grunkle.

“ _Grunkle Stan_ ,” Dipper moaned, opening one eye to look at his great uncle. “I’ve missed you so much,” he breathed.

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” Stan laughed, turning away from the worktop to put yet another plate of the food on the table. ‘The thing’ looked a bit like tiny pieces of toast, but had a gelatinous green liquid smeared on it rather than butter, with a consistency more like cake than bread. Despite the horrid appearance, Dipper insisted that it tasted great, but Bill had decided to stick to his rice krispies and _un_ -poisoned body.

Stan grabbed hold of Dipper’s wrist, shaking it and watching as what little fat was on it jiggled. “You and your sister have gone too long without a decent meal,” Stan said, shoving a piece of whatever-that-was into the boy’s mouth. “We’ve got to get some more meat on those bones. You’re putting the Pines family to shame, boy.”

Dipper swallowed his mouthful, looking at Stan with hopeful eyes. “Does that mean more food?” He asked. Stan grunted a yes, and Dipper moaned happily. “You are definitely my favourite Grunkle,” he said. 

Ford looked up from his newspaper, eyes narrowed at his nephew through his spectacles. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Dipper smiled at him through a mouthful of food, and Bill noticed a smear of jam clinging to the boy’s lip. “Pine Tree,” he said, “you’ve got a little…” he trailed off, pointing at his own lips to show Dipper where the mess was.

Dipper rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, somehow managing to miss all of the green stuff, and Bill sighed, shaking his head. “Come here,” he said, already leaning over the table to reach. Bill swiped all of the – _jam?_ – off Dipper’s lips in one clean sweep, bringing the finger to his mouth and sucking it off. He kept his eyes locked with Dipper’s as his slipped his finger between his lips, relishing the movement of Dipper’s throat when he gulped. “Perfect,” Bill said with a smile, his finger still pressed to his lips as he sat back down.

The gloop hadn’t tasted how Bill had expected. He thought it would be sour, but it was surprisingly sweet – kind of how he expected Dipper to taste. Maybe it _was_ Dipper he tasted. He brushed the thought away, before Dipper and his unruly powers caught wind of it.

Speaking of Dipper – he was staring at Bill. Not the kind of open-mouthed staring that Bill had gotten used to seeing when he made a rude joke or said something he wasn’t supposed to. It was a quiet stare, almost as if Dipper didn’t know he was doing it. Bill wouldn’t have thought anything of it, if this hadn’t been the fifth time he’d caught Dipper doing it in two days.

“So, what’re you doing today, kid?” Stan asked, pulling the chair next to Dipper out from under the table and lowering himself into it, wincing at the series of clicks that accompanied the movement.

“Well,” Dipper started, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a piece of paper. He unfurled the list of the day’s activities, “First, I’m-”

“What the _hell_ is that?” Bill asked, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth as he stared at the list spread out on the table.

Stan laughed – some things never changed. He remembered Dipper writing lists for everything when he was younger, supposing that there were just some habits that people never grew out of.

“It’s a list,” Dipper explained. “All the things I’m going to do today are on it.”

Bill snorted, reaching across the table and snatching the piece of paper. “Oh no,” he said, disapprovingly, and he tore the page in half.

Dipper made an agonised noise as he watched the list go up in flames.

Ignoring Dipper, Bill turned to look at Stan, who was watching the genie and his great nephew interact with an amusement that he wasn’t even trying to conceal. The was an excited light behind Bill’s eyes when he said, “I’m going to teach your nephew how to have some fun, if that’s alright with you, sir.”

Stan shrugged, “Knock yourself out.”

“I really don’t think-” Dipper began to say, but he was already half way out of the kitchen, Bill leading him along by his jacket sleeve.

Dipper had a bad feeling about this.

Bill kicked the door shut behind them, and Stan turned to his brother, a grin on his face and a glint in his eye. “They’re good for each other,” he said, beaming, and Ford grunted. He still wasn’t sure about Bill – he didn’t trust him. But then, he didn’t trust anyone anymore – and he _certainly_ didn’t trust genies.

Bill didn’t let go of Dipper’s hand until they reached the town, and even then it was only so that Dipper could wipe the sweat off his palm on to his trouser leg. Bill was beginning to suspect that the nervous moisture wasn’t all down to him, too – he had seen Dipper’s cheeks do the colour-changing thing more than enough times to know that he was getting the kid in some way or another. 

He hoped it was in the way he was aiming for.

Dipper followed Bill through the crowd, slapping Bill on the shoulder every time he used magic to push someone out of his way. Dipper was becoming apprehensive about the excessive use of the genie’s power – he had no idea if it could run out, or how fast it could do so, but he didn’t want Bill to overexert himself and end up the hollow shell he’d been after that one wish of Gideon’s.

“Ooh, Pine Tree!” Bill gasped, and the boy realised that they’d stopped walking. Bill was tugging on Dipper’s sleeve excitedly, grinning at him as he bounced up and down, pointing at the building they were stood in front of. “Can we go in there?”

Dipper turned his head to the building. “No,” he said, instantly deciding that of all the ideas that had ever been thought, that was the worst one. The building was one of the older structures in Gravity Falls, the walls lined with carved wooden branches to maintain the structure and covered by a thatched roof. Loud music came from inside, barely audible over the louder shouting and laughter coming from inside. As if on cue, a scrawny man with ginger hair that rather resembled a bowl was tossed out of the building – right through the window pane and into the street. The shouts were louder without the glass barrier, and the stench of beer and wine spilled out into the street. 

“I am not going in there,” Dipper said.

Bill pouted, and Dipper would have laughed at the expression had it not been working, coercing him into the tavern even though his mind screamed that it was a _very_ bad idea. “C’mon,” Bill pleaded, tugging Dipper’s arm ever so gently towards the dark wood door. “It’ll be fuuun~” he sang, a hint of a smile touching at his lips. “Besides, I’ll be right there with you!”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” 

Bill rolled his eyes so hard Dipper was surprised the world didn’t turn over with them, and he pushed Dipper through the tavern door, eyes adjusting to the darkness almost instantly. “Sit down,” Bill said, steering Dipper to an empty table and shoving him into a seat. “I’ll get drinks.” 

“I can’t drink yet,” Dipper said, catching Bill by the wrist and ignoring the slight tingle that raced up his arm at the contact. “I’m only seventeen. I won’t get served.” 

“Not with that attitude you won’t!” Bill said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd, headed to the bar – not that Dipper would know if the genie just up and ditched him. He couldn’t see anything but shaved heads and leather jackets. 

Dipper sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Hey,” a deep voice said, and Dipper looked up, startled. A tall man was staring at him with bloodshot eyes, and Dipper blinked at him, then at the empty space behind him, not sure if he was being spoken to. 

“Hi?” He tried.

The man leaned against the table, and the stench of alcohol and herbs (that were quite decidedly illegal) burned Dipper’s eyes. “What’s a young guy like you doing in here all by himself?” He asked, and when he spoke, something thick and black dripped from his beard. 

“Oh, I’m not alone,” Dipper said, thanking the gods that his voice didn’t waver. He pointed in the general direction that Bill had wandered off in. “My friend’s over-” 

“I don’t care,” the man said, interrupting. He pulled out a chair and sat down in it, leaning close to Dipper to ask, “how old are you?”

“Seventeen?” Dipper answered, leaning as far back as he could without being offensive or letting slip that he was severely uncomfortable right now.

“Ah,” the man breathed, leaning forwards again, and he was so close to Dipper that the boy could see flecks of what he sincerely hoped wasn’t blood dotting the man’s forehead. “So, is this your first time out drinking?” He asked. Dipper nodded, and the man smiled, his teeth – the ones that he still had, anyway – were a mixture of black and yellow, and they stuck out of his gums like old graves, jagged and uneven. He hummed, eyeing Dipper up and down as he came even closer, saying, “Why don’t you ditch that friend of yours and come get drunk with me instead?”

Dipper froze, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. His eyes darted around the room for help, and they had just landed on someone who looked just as concerned about his wellbeing as he was when Bill’s voice came slicing through the uproar. 

“I think he’s fine with me, thanks,” he said, voice deceptively light and unthreatening. 

The man’s gaze turned on Bill, and he growled, standing slowly and sidling up to Bill, staring down at him with disgust. This man was at least six inches taller than Bill, and over twice his width, built like a Viking on steroids. “You’re his friend?” He asked, stepping so close to the genie that Bill had to lean his head back to maintain eye contact.

But Bill was anything but intimidated when he snarled a “Yes,” jaw clenching as he stared up at the man with fervent rage. 

The man snorted – a laugh that soon had others joining in, and he crossed his arms over his chest, voice booming when he said, “And you think he’d have a better time with you?”

A smirk made it’s way across Bill’s lips, and he looked at Dipper through the corner of his eye when he said, “Oh, I _know_ he would.” 

The Viking barked a laugh, “Really?” He asked, and Bill’s eyes slid slowly back to him. Walls of ice trapped gold and blue fire as the genie appraised the man and the other’s who’d surrounded him. “And why is that?” The man asked, eyes narrowed on the significantly shorter blond. “What can you do that I can’t?” 

Dipper covered his eyes with his hands, bracing himself for whatever was to come next. 

Bill smiled darkly with only one side of his mouth as he craned his neck to speak directly into the man’s ear, his voice a shallow whisper that raised the hairs on the back of every man’s neck. “Well I don’t mean to brag,” he said, “but I can read.”

The Viking growled, and before Dipper could even process what was going on, the man had pulled his arm back, firing it at Bill’s head with enough force to split a tree clean in half.

Bill watched the fist as it sliced through the air where his head had been only a second earlier, and he swooped under the man’s outstretched arm, grabbing Dipper by the sleeve and pulling him out of his chair. “Time to go,” he said, dragging Dipper out the door and into the crowded safety of the street.

They ran, and Bill didn’t let go of Dipper’s arm until they’d reached a square of the town. Crowded with toddlers and their parents, it was a place where they’d see seven-foot-tall ruffians from a mile away.

Dipper tugged his arm away from Bill and held it close to his chest, massaging his wrist as he thought about what just happened. For a moment there – barely a second, but it had happened – he’d been convinced that Bill had left him. The genie was impulsive, moody, but _untrustworthy_? For a split second Dipper had believed that his uncle’s paranoia had been well founded. 

 _“Dipper,” the older man had said, his eyes disappointed as he frowned at the boy. “That creature is just like all the others of his kind – he’s reckless, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and he’s a_ genie _. It’s not in their nature to care about us – about_ you _.”_

_“His name is Bill,” Dipper had reminded Ford. “And don’t talk like you know him,” Dipper glared at his great uncle with anger not for himself, but for Bill. “I know him better than you do, Ford,” he thought about all the times Bill had saved their asses since they’d met him. “I may not know him well, but I know him better than you.”_

_Bill had always played it off like he was the one on the golden end of the deal, but the more Dipper thought about it, the more he realised that half of what the genie put them through before offering them help was just a thing he_ had _to do. A way for him to say that he did it because he had to, not because he cared._

 _“You think you know him?” Ford had spat back, the wall over his eyes falling down and giving way to genuine concern. “Genies are deceitful by nature – he’ll toss you to the wolves the moment you’re not interesting anymore.” He spotted the lamp on the table and scooped it up, careful not to let anything rub against it. “As for_ this _,” he said, holding the golden metal at his side, “it should be hidden away – contained until it runs out of life. Until the world is safe from his kind.”_

_Dipper had darted forwards then, body acting over mind. Dipper’s arms reached out for the lamp, and in the blink of an eye Ford had raised a hand above his head, magic shooting out from it and forcing Dipper to stay in place. Dipper felt like he was standing in a block of clay, unable to move as he watched Ford stare at him, shocked and more than a little disturbed as he realised what he’d done._

_“Dipper, I-” he breathed, but before he could say anything, a bright swirl of smoke had dropped the genie into the room, Bill’s eyes going from shocked to enraged as he misread the scene before him, erupting at Ford with an anger uncanny for the genie._

He had seen him annoyed and frustrated and irritated and incredulous, but never had Dipper seen him angry.

“Hey, Pine Tree,” Bill said, snapping Dipper out of his reverie. He hadn’t realised they’d been walking, Bill’s hand somehow holding tightly to his own and towing him through the crowded square. “Get a load of this guy.” He tabbed a thumb at the crowd, all standing around one man, his yelling spanning the quiet area.

“And the lord said ‘man shall not lie with man’!” The pastor proclaimed, holding the holy book high above his head as he preached to the people surrounding him.

“It also says no haircuts, but I guess you’re skipping past that one, eh, Baldy?” A girl in the crowd yelled back, her hand firmly grasping that of a small child, it’s eyes wide as it blinked at the people surrounding them, pointing accusatory glares at it’s- sister? Mother?

Bill laughed, “I like her.”

Dipper shook his head, using their joined hands to pull Bill past them, subconsciously quickening his steps the closer to the middle of the mass they grew.

A quick glance at Bill had Dipper’s eyes rolling.

The genie pulled faces behind the pastor’s back, eliciting a few giggles from the crowd. His hand slipped out of Dipper’s so that he could contribute some rude hand gestures, too, some of them just plain _obscene_.

“What are you, twelve?” Dipper asked, slowing his pace so that Bill could indulge himself just a little longer.

“Yes,” Bill answered without hesitation. “On a scale of one to ten.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Come on,” he said, grabbing hold of Bill’s hand and tugging him away from the crowd.

An older woman, who had been watching them, gasped as their hands slipped together, and soon half of the pastor’s audience was staring at them, pointing and muttering among one another.

The pastor turned on them, curious about the commotion, and he released a gasp of his own when his gaze slid down to their joined hands. “Homosexuality is a sin!” He yelled, pointing his crucifix at them as if it would ward off the gay.

Bill laughed, and Dipper caught sight of his eyes flashing red as a satanic grin crossed his lips. “Guess I’ll see you in hell, then.”

The priest scrambled back, eyes wide as he made the sign of the cross over his chest. “ _Demon_!” He accused, pointing at Bill with a shaking finger, fear in his eyes. 

The genie laughed again, his grin only supporting the accusations of a hellish origin. He said, “I’m glad my reputation precedes me.”

A few more gasps came from the crowd, and Dipper was sure he’d seen one woman fall to the floor – fainted. Dipper squeezed Bill’s hand once, snapping him out of whatever role he’d gotten himself trapped in, and he turned away from the obscenity-shrieking crowd.

They didn’t shut up until Dipper and Bill had disappeared behind the treeline, their forms contributing to the shaded forest.

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper traipsed through the thick underbrush of the forest, thorns tearing at his shins as he followed Bill, the genie floating quite comfortably above the evil shrubbery.

“Are you sure we aren’t lost?” Dipper asked, eyes darting apprehensively to the midnight sky, the only light coming from the full moon and the trillions of stars surrounding it.

“Positive,” Bill answered, rolling over to his side, one leg resting atop the other with his head propped up on his hand as he grinned at the boy.

“So where are we going?” Dipper asked. He’d never been this far into the forest – never had the time to go this deep before. It was different. There were no chirping bugs or tweeting birds, the sounds were much more ominous – the hoot of an owl and the howl of a wolf.

“It’s a surprise!” Bill said, reaching out to boop Dipper’s nose, “So stop asking!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, wriggling his nose to free it from the genie’s trap. “Can I at least get a-” he would have asked for a hint, if a tree root hadn’t risen up from nowhere and tripped him up.

Bill laughed as Dipper hit the ground, the genie’s feet touching down on the floor as he leaned against a tree for balance, his chest aching as he doubled over in hysterics. “Wow,” he gasped out, hand pressed to his hammering heart. “Nice leg work Pine Tree!”

Dipper chuckled awkwardly, bringing his hand up to his head. When he pulled it back, it was covered in blood.

Bill’s laughter stopped immediately, all traces of amusement gone from his eyes, and he crouched down in front of Dipper, gently taking his face in his hands. “Oh, wow,” he said, a hissing sound coming from his mouth as he sucked a breath through his teeth. “That’s a cut,” he said. 

Dipper rolled his eyes, “You don’t say.”

Bill snorted – kid couldn’t be hurt that badly if he was still a sarcastic little shit. But just to be on the safe side…

“Come here,” Bill said, taking Dipper’s hand and leading him to a stone, pushing him down to sit on the flattest part. Dipper frowned at him, confused, and Bill held a finger a few inches from Dipper’s face. “Touch your nose, then my finger, then your nose again,” he said.

Dipper raised an eyebrow, eyeing Bill’s finger sceptically. “Why?”

“It’s a concussion test,” Bill explained. Never had he thought that information like this would benefit him, but then, he was a man of many talents, but premonition wasn’t one of them. He kneeled down on the grass in front of Dipper, one knee on either side on the boy’s feet, and he held his finger close to his face, staring at Dipper with large, unblinking eyes. “Don’t want you dying on me, now do I?” He asked with a crooked smile.

Dipper sighed, but followed the genie’s order, carrying out the task with ease.

Bill followed his finger as he did the test once, then again, just in case. One golden eye and one that was barely an eye at all, a blue triangle on a black backdrop, followed his movements, the genie’s gaze focused, unwavering. Dipper was just getting lost in those eyes when Bill stood up, grabbing Dipper by the elbow and pulling him along. “You’re fine,” Bill said.

“You have really nice eyes,” Dipper blurted, then instantly regretted it.

Bill raised an eyebrow at Dipper, amused, and the brunet’s cheeks darkened, his head ducked low. Bill breathed a laugh, shaking his head at this kid and the things he did to him. The genie hooked a finger under Dipper’s chin, tilting it upwards, and he smiled – no teeth, just a brief twitch of his lips. “Thank you,” he said. 

Dipper’s eyes grew wide, and he blinked at Bill. “Did I say that out loud?” He asked, talking to himself.

Bill barked a laugh. “Indeed you did, Pine Tree,” he said, turning away from the kid with a shake of his head – Dipper was just too cute, sometimes. “Now come on!” He reached blindly behind him and caught hold of Dipper’s hand, tugging the boy along behind him as he continued on his way. “We’re almost there,” he said.

He was a little less than right. 

Twenty minutes of walking later and Dipper’s head had stopped hurting, though it did feel a little spinny if he kept his eyes open for too long. When they reached a tree that Bill told Dipper was of extreme importance, the genie pressed his chest against Dipper’s back, covering the boy’s eyes with warm hands. 

“Is this really necessary?” Dipper asked, and Bill felt the boy raise his eyebrows under his palms.

“Yes,” Bill said, kicking lightly at Dipper’s heels to guide him forward. They took maybe a dozen steps before Bill stopped, holding Dipper back. “It’s all part of the surprise!” He twisted his hands at odd angles to keep them over Dipper’s eyes as he moved to stand in front of him, grinning. 

“Can I look now?” Dipper asked.

“Wait just a second,” Bill said, slowly peeling one hand away from Dipper’s face to check that the boy’s eyes were closed. “Just,” Bill breathed, taking a step away from Dipper, “let the suspense sink in.” He backed away from the boy, keeping his arms outstretched just in case Dipper tried to sneak a peak and Bill had to promptly cover his eves again.

“Bill~” Dipper whined. 

The genie laughed. “You have the patience of a saint, Pine Tree,” he joked, stepping out of the way of Dipper’s surprise and finally letting his hands fall to his sides. “Okay,” he said, “now.”

Dipper’s eyes blinked open, taking in the sight before him. “Bill,” he breathed. “This is-” Dipper turned to look at the genie, who was grinning madly, ayes alight with excitement. “This is a tree,” he said. 

Bill nodded ecstatically, “I know!”

“We came all the way out here,” Dipper deadpanned, raising an eyebrow, “for a tree?”

“Mm hm,” Bill hummed, nodding. “We’re gonna climb it!” 

Dipper couldn’t take the look off his face – like he was waiting for Bill to reveal that he was joking, but the realisation was beginning to dawn on him that that just wasn’t going to happen. He bricked that look up, until he was totally blank. “You’re gonna make me climb a tree?”

“Well, I was going to ask you first,” Bill said. “But if push comes to shove then yes, I will force you to climb the tree.” He grinned, patting Dipper playfully on the butt to get him started towards the tree – the kid shrieked, jumping nearly a foot in the air. “Chop chop. Off you go!”

Dipper groaned but did as he was told. It was barely dark out, the sky more white than blue as it was filled with stars, blinking and gleaming down on them. He climbed the tree with ease – years of practice with Mabel had made him a pretty good climber, though he had never been as good as her. He settled down on the tallest branch that he was confident would hold them, straddling it and holding on with both hands before he risked peering over the edge.

Bill was still on the ground, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. That was, until he wasn’t. Bill was in front of Dipper in a flash, and the brunet screamed, losing his balance and falling to the side. Bill caught him by the arm, yanking him back on to the branch with a laugh. “Careful,” he said.

Dipper glared at him, but there was no real malice in it. “If you could do that, why’d you make me climb the damn thing?”

“Funny story,” Bill said. “You see, I was expecting you to not be able to do it, and when you gave up, I was gonna just jump you up with me,” he explained. “But then you _could_ do it,” he continued, “so I contemplated popping in with a sneak attack, because surprised Pine Trees are the best Pine Trees. But~” he grinned at Dipper, a saucy glint in his eye, “then I got distracted by the view.”

He tried to wink, but with thick curls falling over one eye, the effect was lost.

Dipper shook his head, craning his neck back to look up at the stars, holding on to the branch to keep his balance, not that it was needed - Bill wouldn’t have let him fall far if he’d lost it. “It is pretty great,” Dipper said.

Bill deflated, muttering, “I wasn’t talking about the stars.”

“We shouldn’t be up here,” Dipper said, ignoring the genie. “No one’s supposed to go into the forest at night.”

Bill breathed a short laugh, “Do you always follow the rules?”

Dipper shrugged, “I try to.”

“Well don’t,” Bill said. He folded his arms behind his head, leaning his back against the trunk of the tree, and the change in position pushed his legs forwards so that his knees were alongside Dipper’s, squeezing the boy’s legs into the bark. “Rules are made to be broken,” Bill said, his eyes falling shut as he basked in the natural silence of the world around him.

“I really don’t think that’s-” Dipper began, but stopped when Bill’s blue eye opened to stare at him, his dark eyebrows raised.

“Rules. Were made. To be broken.”

Bill’s eye flipped shut again, and Dipper sighed. “You know, some rules are there to protect you,” he said. 

“And most are to keep you from having fun.” 

“So you don’t ever follow the rules?” Dipper asked. Bill had started swinging his legs, and they were rubbing against Dipper’s in ways he really didn’t need them to be. He was fighting to keep his mind off of it, but every time Bill’s rhythm faltered he’d feel it, a jump of friction sending shivers up his spine.

“Nope!” Bill said.

“Seriously?” Dipper asked. Bill nodded. “Come on,” Dipper said. “There’s got to be _one_ rule that you’ve never broken.”

Bill’s eyes opened a crack, thin slits of blue and gold in an otherwise grey scale world. “There is _one_ ,” Bill allowed.

“Ha!” Dipper exclaimed, grinning triumphantly. “See – rules _are_ good, sometimes!”

“Oh, no,” Bill said, leaning forwards with his elbows on his thighs. Their noses almost touched like this, and Dipper gulped – he had forgotten how close they were. “I fully intend to break this one, too,” Bill said, voice dipping lower as he appraised the way Dipper’s cheeks flushed and his breaths turned into gasps and sighs. “I just haven’t gotten round to it yet.” Bill grinned, tongue gliding across his upper lip, and Dipper’s breath caught in his throat. The boy leaned back, but that didn’t seem to put any more distance between them.

“What is it?” He asked, hoping to keep his mind of the purely predatory way Bill was eyeing him. 

“Genies must never,” Bill said, “ _ever_ , part-take in a relationship with someone whose soul crack aligns with theirs, if the person with that soul is a member of another species.” Was it just Dipper who didn’t understand a word of that? “Something about not diluting magic blood, I think.” Bill continued. “So, naturally, I have to do it,” he breathed a laugh, “or _them_ , really.”

Dipper blinked, confused. “A soul crack?” He asked.

“Yep,” Bill said. “I believe your people call the two halves soul mates?” 

Dipper breathed a laugh. “You believe in soul mates?” For some reason, he couldn’t see it. Bill seemed like such a realist, it was strange to think that he’d buy into some wise tale spouted by mothers to their children, a reassurance that no matter what happened there would always be someone out there to love them. 

“Of course I do!” Bill said. “What sort of question is that?” Dipper blinked at him, and the genie rolled his eyes, groaning. “Pine Tree! Not believing in soul mates is like not believing in clouds!” Dipper was looking at him with eyes that held accusations of insanity, and Bill shook his head – how could anyone not believe in soul cracks? It was a fundamental part of being a person, for crying out loud.

“Everyone knows how it goes,” Bill said, absent-mindedly laying a hand on Dipper’s knee as he spoke, saying the words like he was reading them from a book. “An old magician, so ancient he made the sun and the moon seem like children, created a being so powerful that even he was afraid of it. So he split it in half – it’s soul, too. Only, souls don’t break evenly – they crack, unique ridges forming where they’re torn apart. And so the two halves of the cracked soul were left to wander the earth in search of each other, forever.”

Dipper was silent for a moment, letting it all sink in. At first, he had thought that Bill told the story like a child reciting bible passages at church. He thought that Bill believed what he was saying, but only because he’d been told that it was true. But as the genie went on, a light grew in his eyes, barely a flicker at first but growing brighter. Bill didn’t sound monotonous because he’d been told what to think, but because he’d thought it to himself so many times that reciting it had become second nature.

“That really happened?” Dipper asked. 

Bill nodded. “Has no one ever told you that before?” 

Dipper shook his head. “It must have gotten lost in human history at some point,” he said.

Dipper was quiet for a few moments, thinking about Bill – Bill, who could go from laughing at the prospect of bloodshed to valiantly protecting those he cared about. Sometimes, a light glowed in his eyes that made him seem implicitly trustworthy, like he wouldn’t let anything hurt you for as long as he was alive to stop it. 

“And you never found yours?” Dipper asked.

Bill shook his head. “No, not yet. You’re supposed to know it, as soon as you find them. There should be a feeling that no one could ignore, or mistake for anything else.” He shrugged, “But no one knows what it is.” Bill laughed, humourlessly. “For a pairing that’s supposed to be written in the stars, they don’t tend to meet very often.” 

They lapsed into silence, only for a moment, as Bill closed his eyes and wandered off to his thoughts again. Dipper wondered what he got up to in there – what secrets thousands of years of wandering the earth had left in him. Dipper stared up at the sky, thinking that for all he knew, Bill’s mind was as extensive and beautiful as the never-ending abyss of space.

But was his magic? 

Again, Dipper found the question spiralling around his mind, slamming into his other thoughts and destroying them until only his curiosities about Bill remained. Dipper could feel Bill’s presence wrapped around him now. Before, Dipper had thought it to be like a pocket of summer, constantly following the genie around. But now, it was the swirling oranges of autumn. The warmth didn’t come from the sun, but a stone fireplace. The sense of relief wasn’t a drink on a hot day, but walking into a warm house after a walk in the brisk outdoors. The tingles dancing across his skin whenever he and Bill got close was not the prickle of sunlight tanning skin, but the sting of frozen fingers being dunked in hot water.

Still staring at the genie, with all his dark beauty and fiery temperament, Dipper heaved a sigh. What was the harm in asking? 

“Hey, Bill?” Dipper said, forcing the words out before his courage wavered and he pulled them back in. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” 

“Don’t be an ass,” Dipper said, nudging the genie’s knee with his own.

“But it’s such a fun thing to be,” Bill protested.

“I wanted to ask if,” Dipper started, then stopped. What if he wasn’t ready to hear the answer? What if Bill really had been using magic all this time, saving face by prodding at Dipper to make a wish when he really needed the power? “With all the magic you’ve been using lately,” Dipper asked, “are you running low?” Bill raised a bemused eyebrow, and Dipper made a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh. “Can you run out of magic?” 

Bill sniggered, “Of course I can!” At Dipper’s worried look, he sobered and added, “Theoretically, anyway.” Dipper’s eyes blinked, shining with wonder and urging Bill to go on. “At the moment I have enough magic to last me at least a century, and if I start running low I can just grant another wish and top it back up.”

Dipper nodded, content with that answer, until he started to think about what had happened with Gideon. Bill had said that his body would absorb magic from the atmosphere over time, and that it would draw heaps of it from the lamp when a wish was made. It just didn’t add up – if one wish and a few days of diffusion could amount to a century of magic, why did one wish take up what Bill had accumulated over thousands of years?

“So, what happened with Gideon?” He asked. “You ran out of magic then, didn’t you?”

“Ah, now that was different.” Bill said, going back to leaning against the tree, his shoulders writhing against the bark. Dipper watched Bill’s smooth skin as it slid over his collarbones, his mouth running dry. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. Bill was the first person (well, sort-of person) Dipper had met who looked better out of a suit than in one. Bill had taken to stealing clothes out of Dipper’s wardrobe or modelling those that he created after things he found around the house. He had a penchant for yellow and blue, Dipper discovered, and the way the colour’s set off the genies eyes was giving Dipper heart palpitations with a frequency that made him fear for his life.

“You see,” Bill went on, “I can’t technically give a non-magical being the ability to produce their own magic. So, I had to give the demon-munchkin some of my own,” his voice turned bitter, and Dipper wondered if Bill was angry with Gideon for what he’d done. Probably – Dipper couldn’t imagine being exploited like that, but he knew that if he had been he’d be pissed off for months. “Only, he had a greedy little soul, and it ended up sucking up every drop of magic I had to give.”

Dipper wondered about that for a moment. Bill had said that he was the most powerful genie there was, “So-”

“Oh, would you look at that!” Bill cut him off, slapping a hand over Dipper’s mouth. Dipper made a noise of confusion against Bill’s skin, unable to pull away from the warmth of the genie. “It’s almost time for Dipper to shut up!” Heat travelled to Dipper’s cheeks and a shiver ran down his spine, the way the genie’s lips formed his name playing over and over in his mind. “Also the reason we’re here,” Bill added.

Bill took his hand away from the boy’s mouth, and suddenly he was behind him, pulling Dipper against his chest and keeping his arms locked around the boy’s waist. Dipper leaned back against Bill, still refusing to fight the genie - though no longer for the original reason. At first, Bill had been an annoyance, and Dipper could deal with that. But as he grew to enjoy the genie’s not-so-casual touches more and more, it had become increasingly difficult not to react.

Dipper wondered what Bill would do, if during one of his escapades, Dipper finally gave in and- and he didn’t even know what he wanted to do. But he did know that it wasn’t make a wish. He wondered if Bill would stop – touching him or talking to him, Dipper didn’t know which would be worse – if he told the genie how he felt. He wasn’t going to do it, of course. He didn’t even _know_ how he felt. It wasn’t love, not the way Mabel described it anyway, with the thumping heart and the spinning head – okay, it was exactly like that, but it still wasn’t love. It was just… _something_. Something spanning the fine line between love and hate – something _new_.

“What exactly am I waiting for?” Dipper asked, laying his hands on his thighs because he didn’t know where else they could go.

“Just watch,” Bill said. His fingers gripped Dipper’s jaw and angled his head so that it faced the night sky.

The sky was dark for a while, and the two sat in silence, waiting. And then, so suddenly that to blink was to miss it, the sky was bright – colours swaying across it like ink swirling through still water. The lights didn’t interfere with the brightness of the stars, but accompanied it, the Northern Lights joining the North Star in a dance across the sky.

As he stared up in awe, Dipper spotted seven familiar little stars, an asterism that he was used to seeing the other way around. “Oh, hey, it’s the Big Dipper,” he said.

“What?” Bill asked. His voice was dropped low, and his breath traced its way down Dipper’s spine, making the boy’s skin tingle.

“The star pattern I’m named after,” Dipper said, his voice breaking embarrassingly in the middle. He pointed at a spot in the sky. “You know, because of my birthmark?”

 _Birthmark?_ Bill thought. _Is that what the kid thinks it is?_ Dipper leaned to the side, looking up at Bill, and of _course he’d heard that_ , but Dipper just looked at the genie, not uttering a word. Bill raised an eyebrow, but Dipper just shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, but didn’t stop staring.

Bill smirked, a devious glint in his eye, and Dipper leaned back further. Bill was barely holding on to him at this point, and he wondered if Dipper was trying to break away. _Not until he makes a wish_ , Bill reminded himself, but even so, the thought that he was seriously making Dipper uncomfortable sashayed its way across his mind.

If Dipper wanted him to stop, he would tell him, right?

But then… Bill couldn’t help but remember the way the boy curled into him when they slept, grabbed his hand easily and without hesitation, subconsciously leaned into his side when they were sitting or standing close together. Dipper couldn’t hate it that much, surely. He might even _like_ it. The smirk returned, and this time Dipper raised an eyebrow at it.

“What’s that look for?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” Bill asked back, the picture of innocence – if the picture of innocence had little red horns and an arrow-headed tail. “This is just my face!”

“Yeah, when you’re up to something,” Dipper laughed. He poked Bill in the ribs, “Tell me.”

“Okay, fine,” Bill relented. He was finished now, anyway. “I did a thing.” Bill looked pointedly at something in the sky behind Dipper, and the brunet turned, a small gasp escaping him as his eyes landed on something that hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.

A triangle.

Made out of stars.

In the ladle of the big dipper.

“Bill!” Dipper said, his voice louder and higher pitched than usual. He waved his hand blindly behind him, the back of his hand connecting with the genie’s thigh, and Bill laughed. “You can’t just-”

“Just look at the stars, Pine Tree,” Bill said, his voice soothing as he rested his chin on the boy’s shoulder.

“But-”

“Stars.”

Dipper relented, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to something Bill had said earlier.

 _A pairing written in the stars_.

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica writhed in her sleep. Her eyes darted around under their closed lids, and her breaths came in short, sharp bursts.

Gideon grinned at her, lounging in a throne with one stubby leg crossed over the other, a book resting on his knee. “Oh, Princess!” He exclaimed when she materialised in her dream, “What an unpleasant surprise!”

Pacifica blinked at him for a moment, not sure how he could possibly be here – the library on the second floor of the palace, she deduced, after a quick look at her surroundings. They had locked him in a lamp, hadn’t they? How could he be here now?

“What are you doing here, Gideon?” She growled, surprising herself with the level of venom she managed to stuff into her words.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Gideon said, waving her off and returning to the open pages on his lap. “I’m just looking for a little something.” He licked his finger, flicking past a few pages in the book at break-neck speed, until he paused, his eyes lingering on a page full of writing that Pacifica couldn’t make out. “Here it is,” Gideon sighed.

He looked at Pacifica with a voracious smirk, and she felt icy fingers wrap around her skull, sharp claws digging into her mind sending a bolt of lightning through her spine. She screamed in agony, and Gideon winced, annoyed. Waving a hand over the princess, she fell to the ground.

Pacifica gasped and sat up straight, returned to her bedroom.

Mabel smiled at the girl, relief in her eyes as Pacifica woke from her restless sleep. “Another bad dream?” She asked.

Pacifica’s eyes snapped open, and Mabel screamed at the sight. Pacifica’s eyes were red. They glowed, flooding the room with a harsh light.

“He’s coming,” Pacifica said, her voice like her own, but not exactly the same. Like there was something else behind it – something _dark_. 

“Pacifica?” Mabel breathed. She reached a hand out, but it didn’t come within a foot of Pacifica’s shoulder before it was flung back, shot with a bolt of black lightning. 

“He’s coming for _you_ ,” Pacifica said, still focused on nothing, like she was staring at something _inside_ of her.

“Pacifica, _hey_!” Mabel called, reaching out again, but to no avail. The lightning struck harder this time, sending a buzz of electricity right up to Mabel’s neck, fizzling out at the curve of her jaw. 

“He’s coming for _you_ , **Mabel** **Pines**!” Pacifica screamed. 

Her red eyes blew wide before the colour faded away, leaving them a watery blue. Pacifica’s muscles gave in at once, and she fell limp against Mabel’s side. Tears slipped down the princess’ cheeks as she clung to the other girl’s nightgown, body shaking with fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *smiles like she's done absolutely nothing wrong* so, remember that time when I said we were done with gideon forever? hehehe *runs away*


	13. A Moment of Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dances* it got gayer

“What was that?” Came Pacifica’s quiet voice. 

“I don’t know.” Mabel answered, the darkness engulfing all but the sounds of life thriving in the early morning.

“He said he was coming for _you_.” Pacifica’s hand reached out to hold Mabel’s.

“He?” Mabel asked, squeezing Pacifica’s had – she was shaking.

“It was a man… I think.” Pacifica said, and this time her voice shook almost as much as her fingers. 

“Are you okay?” Mabel asked. It was a stupid question, really.

“Yeah,” Pacifica said, her voice cracking, and she sniffed. She reached out for Mabel at the same time as the brunette opened her arms for her to fall into them.

“C’mere,” Mabel breathed, shifting to her knees to hold Pacifica more comfortably. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Pacifica sniffed again, and Mabel felt the salty moisture of tears dripping against her neck. She reached up to stroke Pacifica’s hair, her fingers separating the knots as she repeated a mantra of ‘you’re safe now’ and ‘I’m here’. She didn’t believe her own words. What had just happened with Pacifica - her eyes lighting up and her voice echoing with a thousand others as she spoke – that had been terrifying. Before that, Mabel had been sure that it was just a nightmare, and she’d sat and watched, just like she always did when Pacifica had a night terror. In some morbid way, she almost wished that it had been a nightmare, and not whatever this was.

“I know,” Pacifica sighed against Mabel’s neck, leaning in to the hand carding through her hair. She longed to do the same to Mabel’s, but the girl had tied it up, tresses spiralling out of control atop her head. Her fingers reached up to play with the short strands at the nape of Mabel’s neck, too short to tuck into the elastic holding the rest of it together. Her fingers brushed something right at the centre of the brunette’s neck, and they paused. “What’s that?”

Mabel’s hand was out of Pacifica’s hair then, reaching up to cover the mark as she leaned back. “Ah… uh-” Mabel stammered, and Pacifica frowned, because that wasn’t like Mabel at all. “It’s nothing,” she said, laughing a little nervously, the sound so at odds with Mabel’s usual outgoing attitude that Pacifica started to worry. “It’s just a birthmark,” she said. 

Pacifica’s head cocked to the side and she leaned forward, neck arching to look behind Mabel’s. The latter leaned back again. Pacifica paused. “Can I see it?” She asked, her fingers already moving up to Mabel’s, shadowing them and guiding them away. Pacifica smiled, and shifted, so that she was behind Mabel, her knees on either side of the other’s hips.

Pacifica’s hand reached out to touch the mark, fingers gliding over the rounded domes at the top and the sharp point at the bottom. Perfectly symmetrical, something Pacifica had always thought that Mabel could not possibly be. She was like an explosion, Pacifica had thought one day. If Mabel were a painting she’d be random splatters of colour on a page. To see something so orderly on her was just… “You were born with this?” Pacifica asked.

Mabel nodded. A quick glance at the window across the room told Pacifica that Mabel’s eyes were closed, her cheeks tinted pink as she leaned into Pacifica’s touch. Pacifica traced the heart with her finger, and she wondered what would happen if she kissed it. She could play it off as a friendly gesture, she thought, if Mabel freaked out. And if she didn’t… 

“You’re not going to laugh at it?” Mabel asked. Her eyes were still closed, long lashes fanning out and casting shadows under furrowed brows. She looked… _unsure_ , Pacifica thought, but that didn’t come close to describing the mix of unease and comfort and trust and uncertainty painted on Mabel’s face in this moment.

“Why would I?” Pacifica asked. She hadn’t realised until now, but they were whispering, voices low and breathy in the light of the early morning sunrise.

“Most people do,” Mabel said with a shrug, and like a lightning bolt splitting the sky pain shattered Mabel’s face – a pain from her past that made Pacifica want to ball up her fists and pound them into a wall, but at the same time, shower Mabel with so much love and affection that she forgot that pain completely.

“Most people are idiots,” Pacifica said, and Mabel laughed.

“Hey now,” she said, her smile lighting up the room like the sun never could. “ _I’m_ most people.”

Pacifica moved back to Mabel’s front, her fingers softly tracing Mabel’s jaw. “Mabel Pines,” she said, “you are the furthest thing from ‘most people’ I have ever met.” 

Mabel’s cheeks lit up with red, and her lips smiled almost shyly. Still, she kept her eyes closed, and the sheer beauty of her hit Pacifica like it never had before. One of her hands moved behind Mabel’s leg, holding her weight as she leaned forwards. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Pacifica didn’t know who it belonged to, only that Mabel’s lips were parted now and she could-

“Pacifica, I- oh!” Pacifica’s mother wandered in to the room – Pacifica had no idea why it was open – and she froze when she saw her daughter. Leaning over Mabel. On her bed. 

“Mother!”

Pacifica’s heart hammered in her chest, and she threw herself away from Mabel so quickly that she would have fallen off the bed, had Mabel’s arm not darted out and steadied her.

“Sorry, darling,” Priscilla said, hand coming up to cover her mouth as her crystalline eyes darted between the two girls. “I just-”

“Mom?” Pacifica’s eyebrows lowered, confused. Her mother _never_ apologised, even when she knew she was wrong, and- and she had seen Pacifica leaning in to kiss Mabel and she hadn’t even threatened to kill anyone yet. 

“I-” the queen began, and things were just getting weirder because she, the Queen of Gravity Falls, _did_ _not_ _falter_. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve been thinking about what Mabel said,” Priscilla continued, taking another step into the room. “She’s right,” she said, and Pacifica’s heart almost stopped. “We’ve been stuck in our old ways for too long, now,” Priscilla said. “You don’t have to get married, Pacifica.” She closed the distance between herself and her daughter, a bare hand cupping Pacifica’s cheek with all the motherly affection she’d been withholding for all these years. “This kingdom doesn’t need a king – it needs a leader that will listen to what has to be said.” The woman smiled, “You can _be_ that leader, Pacifica.”

There was silence for a moment. No one knew what to say. Pacifica’s focus was on her mother, and her mother’s on her. For that moment, they just stared.

“Really?” Pacifica choked out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing – her mother had actually listened to her. She’d come around. She’d finally started treating her like a person.

“Yes, my love,” the queen breathed, stroking Pacifica behind the ear in a way that she hadn’t since the girl was a child. Her eyes flitted to Mabel, and her smile turned knowing. “I’ll leave you two to-” she trailed off, then, “- _talking_.”

The queen turned and left, her nightdress swishing out behind her, and Pacifica saw just the barest glimpse of bare feet under the hem. 

“Well,” Mabel breathed, “that was-”

“Strange,” Pacifica cut in. Her eyes left the door her mother had disappeared through to look at Mabel, “Really, _really_ strange.”

Mabel swallowed the lump in her throat, clearing it long enough to say: “Yeah.” She remembered the events of a few days ago – the way she’d growled at Pacifica’s mother, the magic twisted through her words intoxicating the woman. She remembered the dazed way the queen blinked back at her, her eyes swirling with something Mabel wasn’t entirely sure was not some kind of mind-rape, or something.

“But,” Pacifica said, snapping Mabel out of it. “I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Her words were distorted by a yawn, and she stretched her arms above her head, causing the joints in her shoulders to click noisily.

“You’re tired,” Mabel stated. “I was going to go see Dipper,” she said, her legs unfolding and sliding off the bed. She didn’t say what for – she had to ask him about all of this. If she was right and it was her that caused the queen’s change of heart, she had to know if she should try to reverse it, or if they would all be happier if it stayed this way. Dipper was always better at those kinds of things than she was. “You stay here and sleep.” 

“No!” Pacifica gasped, reaching out to grab Mabel’s wrist. Brown eyes looked down at her, alarmed, and Pacifica let her go. “No,” she said again, quietly. “I’ll come with you.”

Understanding dawned on Mabel’s face, and she stepped closer to Pacifica, taking her hand and entwining their fingers. “You can’t sleep alone after what happened?” She guessed, and Pacifica nodded.

She didn’t mention that she couldn’t sleep _at all_ without Mabel pressed up against her.

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper’s eyes had only been open for a fraction of a second before he closed them again. The sun burned his retinas, leaving a bright shadow on the inside of his eyelids even after he’s closed them. He felt odd, and it took him a moment to figure out _why_.

Bill wasn’t there.

The familiar press of skin against his was gone, as was the warmth that Bill wrapped around him like a fleece. He had gotten used to it over the past few weeks, and Dipper’s bed felt too big without him.

He was in deep, and he had no idea how to get himself back out. 

It had started off small, as all of his crushes did. Not noticeable and not that big of a deal – _totally_ _ignorable_. He’d find himself staring at Bill. He was moving over to give Bill room on the couch, though not enough for them to be more than an inch-or-so apart. He’d go in to a different room just to be near Bill, even sitting close to the lamp when Bill was busy pottering about in there. He could blame all of this on distrust, though – he just didn’t trust Bill to be alone.

It was manageable.

Until he’d started letting his mind run wild. He started thinking about Bill, thinking about spending time with each other, inventing entire dates and outings and evenings together inside his head. He’d hear a song and think about him, see something in town and think about how much Bill would like it. By the time he decided to stage an intervention and stop himself before it was too late… it was too late.

There were soft feelings jiggling around under his skin, a brigade of butterflies whipping around his stomach when Bill laughed or smiled or, christ help him, _breathed_. He felt sick when he thought about him, and he found himself craving those touches Bill seemed so fond of dishing out. 

“Hey bro!” A soft voice said, cutting through her brother’s thoughts. Mabel stepped into the room almost silently, as if trying not to wake her brother, though with steps like that she’d have difficulty waking so much as a mouse.

“Mabes?” His voice was still hoarse from disuse, and he blinked blearily through the sun. “Why are you-?” His eyes focused on her, and as she stepped closer, thin lines became visible on her cheeks. Sitting up, he took her hand and tugged her closer, cupping her cheek and angling her face to appraise the tear tracks. There was a fury behind his eyes. “What happened?” He snarled.

“It’s okay,” Mabel said, laying a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. “It’s okay,” she repeated, “I’m okay-”

“Then why have you been crying?” Dipper challenged, swiping a bundle of moisture away from her cheek as if to punctuate his point.

Mabel swatted his hand away. “It’s Pacifica-”

“Pacifica did this to you?”

“Dipper!” Mabel took Dipper’s hands and shoved them down to her sides, holding them there and – more importantly – away from her face. “Stop interrupting – this is getting us nowhere!” Dipper nodded, and she continued. “Pacifica had a dream,” she said, “someone was controlling her.” Mabel remembered the way Pacifica had moved, the way she had looked – with eyes that were hollow and lifeless. Like a puppet, she thought. Like someone else was pulling at the strings. “Grunkle Ford says she was possessed.”

“Possessed?” Dipper spluttered. “By who?”

Mabel shook her head, “I don’t know, bro.” Her eyes were helpless for a brief second, but then they were determined – cold and hard and determined. “But I’m going to find out,” she said. Her eyes turned uncertain then, flicking down to look at Dipper with hope that was shielded, just in case. “You’ll help me, right?”

“Of course,” Dipper said. How could he not? They were brother and sister, but before that, they were best friends.

Mabel lifted one of his hands and slapped it with her own, the lamest high-five either of them had ever taken part in. Dipper raised an eyebrow, and she grinned. “Mystery Twins! Yeah!” Dipper breathed a startled laugh, memories of rushing through the fields chasing ‘monsters’ replaying in his mind. “It’ll be just like when we were kids!” Mabel beamed.

“Mabel, we made all of those stories up.”

“Not _all_ of them,” Mabel corrected, her grin slipping a little. 

“The vast majority.”

“But they were still mysteries!” Mabel said, her cheeks puffing out and her voice taking on the tone it used to adopt when she’d poke him and say ‘whomp’. “And we still solved them!”

“If you say so,” Dipper agreed, but he didn’t believe himself. He and Mabel had spent whole weeks solving ‘mysteries’ around the Falls. Either he or Mabel would leave a note on the front porch from ‘The Society of the Blind Eye’ asking for their help, and together they’d track down the monster and find out what was wrong with it, and help it. They would never kill he monster – unless it was a spider, in which case Mabel did kill it because Dipper could deal with ‘gremloblins’ and ‘redcaps’ and ‘leprecorns’ but he absolutely drew the line at spiders. “And if we can’t,” Dipper continued, “we can always ask Bill.” 

“Well, yeah,” Mabel agreed with a roll of her eyes. “But that does take all the fun out of it.” Dipper laughed at that, because really, only Mabel could find amusement in literal attempts on her life. Mabel grinned, allowing herself to flop down on Dipper’s bed, sprawled across his outstretched legs. “Speaking of the dreamy genie-” she sang.

Dipper rolled his eyes – he’d hardly go that far.

“-how’s that going?”

Dipper groaned, stealing Bill’s pillow and shoving if over his face, debating on whether to smell it or suffocate himself with it. Mabel laughed, “That good, eh?”

“Don’t start,” Dipper said through the pillow.

“Come on,” Mabel cooed, pulling the pillow away from her brother’s face. Dipper let her. “Tell Mabel what’s wrong.”

Dipper sighed heavily, and Mabel prodded him with her foot, just in case he was getting any ideas about not telling her. “I think he likes me,” Dipper said. 

Mabel stared.

She stared for a second, then two, then ten.

And then she brought the pillow down on Dipper’s face. 

“You _think_ he likes you?” Mabel screeched, audible even over the thumps of the pillow and Dipper’s startled cries. “Of! Course! He! Likes! You!” She punctuated each word with a pillow to the face.

Mabel pulled the pillow back for another hit, and Dipper looked at her with wide eyes. “You knew?”

“’You knew?’” Mabel mimicked. She brought the pillow down hard, “Of course I knew!” She pulled the pillow back, and something about the look in Dipper’s eyes made her stop the onslaught. “Even Pacifica knew, and she’s blind as a bat when it comes to these things! She doesn’t even know that I like her!”

“Seriously?” Dipper barked, incredulous. “How does she-”

“No! Changing! The subject!” Another three hits.

Dipper took the pillow from his sister, whacking her on the head with it once before shoving it down between them. “Stop!” He breathed, his chest heaving with restrained laughter.

His amusement only fuelled Mabel’s fire. “I’ll stop when you stop being an idiot!” She shouted, smacking Dipper (gently) on the head, since her pillow was currently compromised. “Have I taught you nothing about boys?” 

“Yes!” 

“Liar!” She hit him again.

“Mabel-”

“Dipper, if you don’t kiss that genie I’ll-” she paused. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t enjoy it!”

“Mabel-”

“Dipper!” Mabel grabbed hold of her brother’s shoulders. Her voice was quieter, softer when she said, “All you need is a moment of courage. You can do it, bro!”

“But what if he-“ 

“Dipper Pines,” Mabel scolded. “If you say ‘doesn’t want to’ so help me God I’ll-”

Dipper whacked her with the pillow.

Mabel fell of the bed, landing on her butt and somehow managing to drag half of Dipper’s sheets with her. Dipper snorted, and Mabel’s expression turned livid as she glared up at him. “Oh, it’s on!” She growled. She pounced at Dipper, and the boy screamed, falling backwards with flailing limbs as she landed on him, wrestling for the pillow. “Resistance is futile!” She cried, like a warrior marching into battle, and she laughed with triumph when the pillow slipped out of Dipper’s grasp. She beat down on him with it, her hits becoming harder as Dipper’s laughter became more hysterical, but eventually she had to stop when Dipper curled up into a ball, laughing so hard tears were running down his cheeks. She joined him on the bed, legs kicking at the air as she clutched her stomach, laughing harder than she had done in a long while.

 

.

.           .

 

“Would you rather be locked in a room full of trained assassins or a room full of tigers who haven’t eaten in years?” Bill asked, swaggering down the street with Dipper at his side, their fingers wound together.

“Is neither an option?” Dipper asked, after a moment of thought. 

“It is…” Bill relented, dragging Dipper out of the way of a man storming through the crowd. “If you want to be the most boring human I’ve ever met.” A glance back at the man showed a bright orange orb glowing just beneath his skin, and Bill frowned. 

That was the third one he’d seen today.

“The tigers, then.” Dipper said, tugging on Bill’s hand to steer him away from an old lady known around these parts as a pickpocket. Bill had taken to carrying his lamp around with him, and the last thing they needed was the old woman getting her hands on that. Bill raised an eyebrow, and Dipper went on. “The tigers haven’t eaten in years – they’re all dead by now. They’d be unpleasant to be around, but there’s less of a chance of being killed by them than the assassins.” They ducked under an archway, and Dipper looked at Bill, who stared right back at him. “Which would you choose?” He asked. 

“The assassins,” Bill said. Dipper frowned, and Bill grinned. “I never said the assassins wanted to kill me.”

“Give them five minutes,” Dipper said.

Bill had the decency to look offended, but when Dipper smirked at him, he laughed. 

“So, why are we in town?” Dipper asked.

“We’re looking for something,” Bill said. 

He scanned the crowd with one eye, but kept the other trained on his companion. He didn’t need Dipper wandering off in a town infested with genies. He’d seen three so far – an amber, a peridot and a pearl. All low-level souls, but he was sure there’d be more coming, and if they suspected anything, he’d have a lot more than a handful of glorified pebbles to deal with.

“Is that all you’re gonna tell me?” Dipper asked.

“Yup!” Bill answered. He led Dipper up a stairwell, sandstone leading up to a row of balconies that he intended to stop at to scope out the town from a better angle. 

As soon as they were up the first step, Bill’s eye latched on to another genie, fast paced and coming right at them. He had a black soul, jagged and gleaming - obsidian. Bill tugged on Dipper’s hand, but the boy didn’t come with him, and when Bill shot Dipper a glare he was met with an almost identical look. “Pi-” 

The genie barrelled right into Dipper.

Dipper’s hand flew out of Bill’s and he fell backwards. For a moment, he thought he was going to topple over the edge, crashing through the stall underneath with a splintering crash. An arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him. Dipper gasped as the genie pulled him against his chest, and if he noticed the way Bill glared at him with the rage of a thousand suns, he didn’t show it. “Sorry,” the genie breathed, and despite himself, Dipper blushed.

Bill’s hand tightened into a fist.

“It’s okay,” Dipper said, making no move to pull away from the genie. He was tall, with a lithe frame and pale skin and orange hair. He was the literal embodiment of everything Dipper liked in a person, and he was pressed against his chest.

Orange eyebrows furrowed over black eyes, and the genie asked, “Do I know-” 

“Nope!” Bill interjected. He grabbed Dipper’s hand and tugged the boy closer to him, and black eyes narrowed on him. “Come along, Pine Tree!” Bill said, tugging Dipper away from the genie as fast as he could without teleporting them to literally anywhere else.

“B-” Dipper barely got the first letter of Bill’s name out before a hand was clamped over his mouth. One on his waist, one on his wrist and one on his mouth – Dipper gasped, shocked, and looked down to find a third, solid-black limb protruding from Bill’s left side, just underneath his other arm.

Bill looked over his shoulder, and the orange-haired genie was watching them go, an amused lilt to his mouth. Bill glared, baring his teeth in a snarl, and the genie grinned.

There was a challenge in his eyes.

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica froze as soon as she walked through the door, her legs failing her as her eyes fell on the brunette at the centre of the room. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her arms outstretched as women darted around her. She winced as one of the seamstresses stuck a pin in her side, but when the lady looked at her with terror in her eyes, Mabel smiled kindly.

Pacifica loved her so much.

“Mabel,” the princess breathed, and the former turned her head, knocking a few ringlets loose. Someone immediately scurried over to fix that for her. “You look,” Pacifica breathed, but she couldn’t find the right word. Beautiful, stunning, breath taking – they all paled in comparison to Mabel. 

Her dress was pale, a light blue hem fading to rose-petal pink, cutting off with a sash that led to a gem-encrusted bodice. It was a similar cut to the last dress she’d worn – a flared skirt and fitted top. It suited her, both her body and her personality, and it left Pacifica’s heart aflutter, begging to break out of her chest.

Mabel smiled, looking down at herself to hide a small blush, but her chin was soon yanked upwards by a seamstress, baring her burning cheeks to the world.

“Thank you,” she managed to squeak, before her eyes fell down to appraise Pacifica’s own gown. It was deep blue at the top, fading to an array of pastel colours on a loose skirt that folded around Pacifica’s legs and left _everything_ to the imagination. “But you!” Mabel gasped, and not even the harsh hands of the dressmakers could keep her from taking a step forwards. “This is so different from the others!”

In all of the pictures Mabel had seen of Pacifica, she wore something slinky and form fitting. It showed off all of her assets, draping over her every curve and accentuating her sharper angles. Mabel had thought she looked like something for show – something to be better than everyone else, to look good and make people jealous. To _impose_. 

But not this. Like this, Pacifica looked soft. Her hair was down rather than up, thick curls cascading over rounded shoulders. Her eyes were brighter with a light dusting of makeup rather than thick black wings, and Mabel was sure that the blush on her cheeks was natural.

“Mother let me pick out my own dress,” Pacifica explained. She could finally stop dressing for other people – stop treating herself like a walking advertisement. Though, she couldn’t deny that she and Mabel didn’t end up matching by accident. She looked again at Mabel’s dress.

It was wonderful, it really was. If it hadn’t been a surprise gift for the girl – Mabel made her the sweater, she _had_ to give her something back – she would have thought Mabel had designed it herself.

“Is your brother coming?” Pacifica asked, after realising that staring at Mabel in content silence was odd to anyone who hadn’t spent an awful lot of time around them.

Mabel grinned, shrugging her shoulders once before she noticed the glare one of the ladies was shooting her and set them back down. “He was invited,” she said, but her smile was unsure.

Pacifica hoped he’d show up.

 

.

.           .

 

“I’m not going.” 

Dipper was lying on his bed, arms crossed stubbornly as he stared at the genie cross-legged at his feet.

“Why not?” Bill whined. He needed to go there to look for genies, since _someone_ couldn’t stay on their feet long enough not to pique one’s interest. If they weren’t gone soon, then-

“Because I don't like parties,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes – they’d been over this, but Bill was relentless. “And because I wasn’t invited.” 

“Pine Tree, the invitation is right there,” Bill said, pointing at the white and gold card sitting on the pillow next to Dipper’s head. Dipper shook his head, and the invitation slipped off the pillow, dropping down between the bed and the wall. Dipper grinned.

Bill groaned, flopping forwards and landing between Dipper’s legs with a sigh. “But I wanna go!” He moaned, burying his face in Dipper’s chest.

“Nuh uh,” Dipper said, shaking his head. “No way. Not gonna happen.” He seriously hoped the genie wouldn’t notice his heart rate pick up, but he was Bill, so of course he did.

Bill looked up as the thumping against his forehead sped up, and a smirk crossed his lips. “What if I make it worth your while?” He asked. Two fingers walked their way up to Dipper’s shoulder, resting in the groove made by his clavicle.

Dipper smirked. “And how would you do that?” He asked, his voice dropping down in the way he knew could be super effective when applied correctly. He felt Bill shiver against him, and his smirk grew.

“Well,” Bill said, digging his elbows into the bed at Dipper’s side and raising himself up on them. He rocked forwards, so that his and Dipper’s noses were inches apart, and his eyes kept flitting between the boy’s eyes and his lips. “I could-"

“Mmm?” Dipper sighed. He swiped his tongue across his lower lip, and when he saw Bill’s eyes glued to his mouth, he repeated the action. 

Bill bit his lip.

“If you take me to the party, I’ll-” 

Bill gasped, because Dipper swung a leg around his hips and rolled him over, landing with his hands on either side of Bill’s head and his hips perfectly lined up with the genies. 

“You’ll what?” Dipper asked, smirking. Bill arched his back, leaning up to whisper in Dipper’s ear, and the brunet smirked. “Is that so?” Dipper dropped his head against Bill’s neck, purposely exhaling against Bill’s skin, his hot breath bouncing back at him. Bill sighed, and Dipper grinned – sometimes, he was too evil. “Well, in that case,” he breathed, craning his neck to sigh against Bill’s ear. “Nope!”

He rolled away from the genie.

He had crossed the room in a flash, settling into the chair behind his desk with his back to a flustered Bill. 

“Pine Tree!” Bill whined, because really, that was just cruel.

Dipper hid his smirk in his book, effectively ignoring the genie.

Bill huffed. “I hate you.”

 

.

.           .

 

Bill sat on a stone railing, a smug air wrapped around him as he scanned the party below. Dipper had agreed to bring him, eventually, after a war within his head that somehow ended with Dipper deciding he was a terrible person and could only make it up to Bill by bringing him to the Northwest’s ball.

Bill could think of a few _other_ ways for Dipper to compensate him, but he didn’t mention them. He thought it best to let it drop while the deal was still in his favour.

He stared at the people beneath him. Pacifica’s employees had done a good job of the courtyard, twirling blue lights around the trunks of the trees and draping them from branch to branch, acting like artificial stars for the people dancing below them. Bill’s eyes locked on to Pacifica, her one hand wound around Mabel’s waist and the other on the back of the brunette’s neck. Their lips moved together slowly, and Bill watched with fascination.

It had been a while since he’d courted anyone, and he was beginning to wonder if he was doing it right. Nothing he did seemed to work on Dipper, and when it did, it blew up in his face. He was glad, now, that at least one thing had stayed the same over all these years. Kissing, at least, he couldn’t go wrong with.

“Hey,” someone said from beside him, and Bill startled, flames dancing over the backs of his knuckles before dying out when he recognised Dipper. The boy moved to sit next to him, and Bill kept his eyes on Dipper as he stepped over the railing, hanging his legs off the balcony.

Dipper didn’t look at him, but Bill had no problem with staring. He watched Dipper’s eyes dart over the dance floor, stopping briefly when he caught sight of Mabel and Pacifica before moving on. Bill watched as Dipper’s tongue darted out, swiping across his bottom lip, and he frowned.

What would it be like to kiss Dipper?

He wanted to, of course – Bill had always had a weakness for pretty things. And brown eyes – brown eyes didn’t come naturally in genies. They were rare, something only humans could really perfect, and Dipper’s eyes were just that. Windows to the soul, Bill’s brother had always called them. He’d had Mabel’s gift – of looking into the eyes and seeing every trouble and love and loss the person had ever known. 

But what would Dipper do? Bill’s hand was behind Dipper’s back, their shoulders were touching. It wouldn’t require any effort, he’d just have to lean in. Dipper wouldn’t pull away – if he did Bill could always make him stay. But, for some reason, he didn’t want that. He wanted Dipper to _want_ to kiss him, and that was strangest of all. 

“Hey, Bill?” Dipper breathed, and Bill had just about enough time to pretend that he wasn’t staring before Dipper’s eyes were on him.

“That’s my name,” said Bill, grinning.

Dipper frowned, and Bill noticed his hands writhing against each other, and his back teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He was nervous. “I think,” Dipper began, then stopped, because really he _knew_ , he was just terrified. But if Mabel could do it, then he could do it too.

 _‘All you need is a moment of courage,’_ the Mabel in his head reminded him.

“I wanna make a wish,” Dipper said.

Bill raised an eyebrow, deceptively collected when he said, “Okay.” He hid his curiosity well, but it was there. He wondered what this could be about. After all the time he’d put into trying to force Dipper to ask for something, and here he was doing it all by himself. _This had better be good_ , he thought, bright eyes turning to Dipper. “What do you want?”

Dipper was silent for a long time, so long that Bill thought that maybe he was going to back out, but a glance to the ground had Dipper moving again, and he shifted on the railing so that he was straddling it, facing Bill. His eyes were serious when he said:

“A moment of courage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, my lovelies, there have been some questions about the genies, so i thought i'd just answer it down here to save all of your precious time. their souls are based on stones, so the ginger dude was obsidian, the one who bill dragged dipper out of the way of was amber and so on and so forth. it basically follows the rules of steven universe (if you haven\t seen that you should watch it because it's amaaaazing) where the less valuable/rare the stone is, the less powerful the genie


	14. When our hearts glow in time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter kicked my ass, ngl. but here you have it *jazz hands*

Bill looked curiously down at Dipper’s legs, one on either side of the railing, and he mimicked him, head cocking to the side as he thought about what an odd wish that was to make. It had been Bill’s trying to coax Dipper into making one that had started this torrent of falling for the boy, and he had no idea when those touches had stopped being about the magic and started being something that he simply enjoyed doing. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but whenever it was, he was glad of it.

There was a light pressure around his hand, and Bill looked down, surprised to find Dipper’s fingers laced snugly with his own. The sweaty palms had stopped, too, as Dipper – Bill was sure that it was him now – grew more comfortable with the gesture. It still shocked Bill, though, that a touch as simple as this – one he was more than accustomed to – could feel so different with certain people. In all his life, he’d never known handholding to be so...  _steamy_.

Bill was pulled away from his thoughts with the realisation that he’d left Dipper all alone out there, and he looked at the boy with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to wish for that?” 

Dipper nodded. He wasn’t sure, of course – he’d never been more unsure of anything in his life. But Mabel _was_ sure, and he trusted her more than he probably should.

Bill smirked, and the hand that was wound tightly with Dipper’s was set alight, blue flames surging up the boy’s arm and delving into his heart, setting it alight with an artificial bravery for him to use whenever it was needed.

“There you go,” Bill said, smiling at the faint blue glow residing beneath the boy’s chest. “One moment of- _hm?_ ” 

In a movement quicker than Bill’s eyes could follow, Dipper reached out, his fingers slipping under Bill’s tie and pulling the genie down.

It was at first like Dipper hadn’t wanted to kiss him. His mouth was hard on Bill’s, unyielding, his eyebrows furrowed and shoulders tense. But then his lips softened, his muscles relaxed with a sigh and there were hands on Bill’s waist, pulling him in, and he could feel Dipper’s rapid heartbeat and the only thing he could think was _what the fuck?_ Because Dipper hated him – or, well, hate was a strong word, but he certainly didn’t harbour kissy feelings for him.

And yet there they were.

Bill couldn’t close his eyes – he was too fascinated with what he was seeing. This close, Dipper was the only thing in his world, and what a beautiful world it was. He could taste what Dipper had been eating – something sweet, overlaid with something bitter, as if he’d tried to make himself taste like nothing at all. He could smell the ever-present mint and ginger that hung around him, though only just, as Dipper forgot to factor in noses, so they were awkwardly smooshed together, rendering most of their primary functions absolutely useless. Not that Bill cared – he didn’t need to breathe.  

All too soon, though, Dipper was pulling back, and it was only the dark red staining his cheeks that stopped Bill from leaning right back in again. “I’m sorry,” Dipper breathed. His eyes were still closed, his expression pained, almost as if he were afraid to see Bill’s reaction. He was sparing himself the pain of seeing the genie confused or angry or, worst of all, disgusted – ice ran through Dipper’s veins at the thought. He was afraid that what he saw would make his heart crack in his chest. “I-”

But Bill's eyes were slipping shut and there was a hand at his neck, his head tilted gently to the side and then there were lips on his, their mouths barely touching as they slotted together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Dipper made a surprised sound, but it was swallowed by a moan from deep in Bill’s throat that had Dipper’s eyes blowing wide. Bill’s eyes were almost closed, a thin sliver of blue and gold peeking out through intermingling lashes. Bill’s hand slid down to the bottom of Dipper’s back and pulled him closer, the other hand making its way from his arm to the back of his neck, fingers weaving through and tugging on the curly hairs there.

Bill bit down on Dipper’s lip, only gently, and Dipper's heart stuttered, a low moan forming in his throat. His hand found its way to Bill’s neck, his thumb pressing against the sharp line of his jaw, and he leaned closer to the genie, adding more pressure to their kiss. His eyes slipped shut as the heavy weight of nerves was lifted from his chest, and he relaxed against Bill, his arms wrapping around the genie’s neck as he pushed himself even closer, his lips working against Bill’s with an urgency that was more than a little shocking, force building with every sharp exhale.

Something loud and rhythmic invaded Dipper’s ears, and for a moment he thought it was his heart giving out. But then he noticed the brief flashes of colour glowing through his eyelids and figured his heart must be safe for another day. He pulled away from Bill, blushing down to his toes when their lips parted with a wet smack. 

He looked up to the sky before he got caught in Bill’s eye – at the blue and yellow patterns blossoming against the black, and he snorted, because that was such a Bill thing to do. “Fireworks?" He laughed, "Really?" Watching as those two colours burst out across the sky, too bright and beautiful to be anything manmade, Dipper’s gaze was drawn  to the three new stars mingling with his namesake asterism.

“That wasn’t me, Pine Tree,” Bill breathed, his head dropping against Dipper’s shoulder so he could pepper small kisses against the boy’s neck, humming happily when Dipper shivered, his hand coming up to hold Bill in place.

“Oh,” Dipper breathed, and his voice shook. He was sure Bill could feel the way his heart was trying to break through his ribcage, if he couldn't hear it, that was.

“Yeah,” Bill sighed, his breath ghosting along Dipper’s skin and sending flairs of heat straight to the pit of the boy’s stomach. Bill trailed kisses up to Dipper’s jaw and across his cheeks, and Dipper turned his head, surprising Bill when he captured the genie’s lips in another kiss. Bill hummed against Dipper, chuckling through a tiny smirk when he made Dipper jump by darting his tongue out to part his lips.

Neither of them noticed the black eyes watching them from the shadows.

 

.

.           .

 

The band at the centre of the courtyard changed its song, light string music taking over the guests of the palace, drawing them in to dance. Pacifica took Mabel’s hand. “Come on,” she said, and tugged the other girl to a secluded corner, away from the prying eyes of their company. Mabel looked confused for a second, until Pacifica placed her hands on Mabel’s shoulders, leaning against the brunette and beginning to sway.

“Mabel,” Pacifica began, her nerves giving way to an excited energy when Mabel’s hands bracketed her hips, thumbs resting on her sharp hipbones. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. It shook a little, despite her fight to keep it steady, and she suspected her heartbeat making itself known in every part of her body was to blame. 

“What is it?” Mabel asked, focusing on keeping her voice level and calm. _She’s finally going to do it,_ she thought, pulling Pacifica closer and resting her cheek on the other’s head to hide her excited grin. 

“You said,” Pacifica began, and when her voice cracked Mabel hugged her closer. Pacifica was probably terrified right now. They were barely dancing anymore, just rocking back and forth out of time to the music, neither of them really paying attention to anything but each other. Pacifica tried again, “You said you were going to live with me until I got married,” she breathed, and Mabel could feel tears hitting her bare shoulder, “but now that I’m not, I want you to know that you don’t have to stay with me anymore.”

Mabel's heart sank. She blinked at the wall in front of her, her eyes confused and a little sad. She'd been so sure that today was the day, after that moment by the fountain and the other on Pacifica's bed. The third time was supposed to be lucky! “Seriously?” Mabel sighed, not sure if Pacifica heard her or not. She didn’t really care. Honestly, she was starting to rethink her whole ‘letting Pacifica make the first move’ philosophy. It had started out as Mabel not wanting to pressure the princess, but this was truly ridiculous.

“Are you okay?” Pacifica asked. They’d stopped moving completely now, and Mabel had stopped breathing. She was just standing there, holding Pacifica, perfectly still. “Mabel-”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mabel said, but her voice cracked, sounding anything _but_  'fine'. “I just-” she thought through her words for a moment, collecting them before she just shot out whatever came to mind first and ended up making a huge mistake. “I wanted to go back because I didn't want Dipper to be alone,” she said, slowly. “But now he has Ford and Stan and I-” Mabel leaned back, looking down at Pacifica with wide, shining eyes. “I want to stay.”

A small smile curved at Pacifica's lips, and as she looked from Mabel's lips to her eyes, reflecting the lights of the court as well as her own light of hope and joy and kindness, Pacifica admitted to herself – like she did every time she looked at Mabel – that she was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with her. “There was something else I wanted to tell you, too!” Pacifica blurted, the words spilling out before she even knew they were coming.

Mabel blinked, anticipating what was to come. “What is it?”

“I-” Pacifica began, but the words didn't come to her. She wanted them to be perfect – to perfectly describe to this imperfect girl that she didn’t care that she wasn’t flawless, because they could be broken and flawed together. “I mean to say that I-” she cut herself off again, biting down on her lip to halt the words before it became impossible to take them back. She didn’t know why this was so hard – really, she’d heard people say _I love you_ so many times before. Why the hell couldn’t she just say it? Mabel was looking at her patiently, and any resolve Pacifica had left was gone when she saw the curious wonder in Mabel’s eyes. “Ah, fuck it,” she said, in a most un-princessly way, and leaned forward to capture Mabel’s lips in a kiss.

Mabel leaned down to meet Pacifica halfway, her hand coming up to cup Pacifica’s cheek as their lips pressed haphazardly together. She tilted the princess’ head gently, getting the noses out of the way and pressing even closer. Her heart swelled when Pacifica sighed against her, and she couldn't help her smile as Pacifica's hand knotted in her hair, pulling her even closer.

Eventually, though, Pacifica had to pull back - too soon. Her cheeks were blazing, and her eyes gleamed with all of the light that Mabel hadn’t been able to find on that first day at the marketplace. She'd fallen in love with the darkness, and with every act of that love, the darkness had melted away, leaving behind a light that Mabel loved more and more with each passing day.

“I love you,” Pacifica said, but with her smile wide and her heart stuttering and her entire body shaking it came out as more of a laugh. And once she’d started laughing, she couldn’t stop. She stood on her toes to press kisses to Mabel’s cheeks, “I love you,” and her forehead, “I love you,” and her nose, “I love you so much,” and her chin, “I’m in love with you, Mabel Pines.”

And then she was kissing Mabel’s lips again, but she wasn’t the one who leaned in, and when Mabel whispered an, “I love you too,” against Pacifica's lips, she jumped at Mabel with a hug that sent them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of laughter and kisses and ‘I love you’s that somehow managed to stay part of a private moment until they hurriedly rose to their feet once more, darting back inside the castle in a flurry of whispers and giggles and ducking into dark alcoves for feverish kisses before going on their way again.

 

.

.           .

 

Gabriel stormed through the halls of the old house on the top of the hill, the one that was rumoured to have been abandoned since before the great collapse. He burst through the first door without waiting for the guards to open it for him, his black eyes gleaming dangerously, but when he came to the second door, he stopped. He placed a pale hand against the wooden door, watching as the carved swirls in the wood lit up gold, extending from his hands to the hundreds of locks littering the door, lighting them up and casting a golden glow over the room. With a cacophony of clicks that echoed through the house, the door swung open, and Gabriel stormed through it with a scowl on his face, ignoring the greetings from his subordinates as he made his way to his podium.

“We’ve found him,” he said, and the room fell into discord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it okay?


	15. The Hunted Strikes Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE! TAKE IT! I'VE DONE ALL I CAN!

When Dipper awoke cwtched up to warm chest, his first instinct was to back away, muttering some excuse about moving in his sleep and natural reactions. But when the strong arm snaked around his waist pulled him tighter against Bill’s chest, the small pains in his collarbones and his throat and his hips reminded him that he didn’t have to make justifications anymore. He sighed and snuggled closer to Bill, a little smile crossing his lips when he felt fingers playing with his curls. 

“Morning,” Bill breathed.

“Already?” Dipper said, blinking the sleepy blur out of his eyes. Bill was smiling down at him, and Dipper arched his neck to place a kiss against the corner of his lips.

“Did you sleep well?” Bill asked, attention slipping away as he pressed a soft kiss just below Dipper’s ear and another lower, at the curve of his jaw.

Dipper shivered a little as he pulled him closer, so that Bill’s lips continued to trace down his neck, little kisses going from the hollow of his throat to the tight skin of his collarbone.

The previous night had been hot and filled with rough want, more lust than love. But this… this was soft and gentle, a kind of earnest sweetness that was at odds with every memory Dipper had after leaving the palace.

“Yeah,” Dipper answered, not quite sure what the question was anymore – not with Bill breathing against his neck with his fingers teasing the waistband of Dipper’s pants. “We should probably get up soon,” Dipper sighed. Bill made a small noise of confirmation, but other than that showed no inclination to stop the way his lips moved against Dipper’s shoulder. “Bill, we can’t stay in bed all day,” Dipper said, trying not to sound so out of breath. He failed. 

“I dunno,” Bill said, grazing his teeth against Dipper’s skin, eliciting a small gasp from the brunet that was instantly drowned out by Bill’s breathy laugh. “I think we should try it, just to find out.”

“Disgusting creatures,” Gabriel snarled, watching the scene play out on a screen in the militant basement of the house. Thanks to the wards surrounding their base, Bill couldn’t sense him watching, though a small part of him hoped that Bill would figure it out and shut down the stream so he wouldn’t have to watch any more.

Inter-species relationships were just- Gabriel couldn’t even describe it. Genies were better than that, and they were certainly better than _humans_ , yet Bill Cipher insisted on cavorting with them. But then, he’d always been one for breaking rules. He watched the human meet Bill’s lips, and he fought the urge to ditch his breakfast in a wastebasket. It wasn’t that nice the first time around, and he was sure it’d be worse on the second. Hopefully though, he wouldn’t have to stick around long enough to have to swallow that dribble for a second time.

His was a straightforward mission – apprehend Bill Cipher and bring him home. He’d been given a small but capable team, along with an old house to work from, and while it’s technologies were far more advanced that those of the humans, it was still a leap and a half behind what Gabriel was accustomed to. But it would do – he just had to use it wisely. 

“Sal!” He called out, and a moment later a man was scurrying into the room, his back hunched, braced for a beating if he’d done something to displease his master.

“Sir?” Salazar said, rolling his ‘s’ like a nervous snake.

“This boy,” Gabriel snapped, swatting at the screen so as to indicate which boy he meant without having to look back at the unsavoury acts taking place on it. “He is important to Cipher?”

Salazar shook his head. “I do not know, sir.” His voice was raspy, each word sounding like a hiss. “I could not-”

“So find out!” Gabriel snarled, and the tips of his unruly hair turned black for a moment, his sclera following suit as he quickly lost his temper. Salazar shrank back, bringing his arms up defensively, and it was only the hand that pressed against Gabriel’s shoulder that stopped him from lashing out. 

“Gabe.” Tad Strange. The warning note in his voice soothed the other genie, and his boiling blood cooled. Tad kept his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder until his hair was back to it’s regular red colour, the black of his eyes receding until only a dark iris remained, barely discernable from the pupil. “If I may-”

“What is it, Strange?” Gabriel growled, not taking his eyes off of Salazar. He revelled in the fear he saw in his subordinate’s eyes – he felt stronger, knowing that he was both revered and feared in the small community the genies had built in Gravity Falls. In this kingdom, he had the upper hand. 

“If the boy means a lot to Bi- I mean, _Cipher_ ,” Tad began, correcting his mistake before he landed himself yet another day of lashings. “Then I would stay far away from him.”

In the thousands of years since Bill had run away, stories had spread through Agrabah – or the City of Wishes, as government officials had proudly re-christened it. There, Bill Cipher was something of a legend – and one to be feared, at that. He was the object of stories; tales told by parents to scare their children, history manipulated to teach lessons, to warn against revolting against the monarchy.

No one said Bill Cipher’s full name anymore, and only those with a death wish risked speaking his first. It was said that speaking his full name would summon him, wreaking havoc on the speaker and then everyone they loved.

It was total bullshit, of course – Tad had called Bill’s name more times than he could count, over the years. But the rest of his kind didn’t know that, and for as long as he was their prisoner, that was his leverage.

Gabriel whirled on Tad, the dark eyebrow he raised contrasting with the murderous gleam in his eye. “Was that a threat?” 

“A warning,” Tad corrected. Bill was powerful – more so now that he had learned to control his lamp. Tad could tell that just by standing near him. Power radiated off him in waves, a constant stream spilling out in every direction, crashing into your soul like a tidal wave of pure light.

Gabriel barked a laugh. “You think that _he_ ,” he snapped, thrusting an arm out to point at the screen, where Bill and Dipper were laughing together, the genie’s arm wound around the human’s shoulders, “is a threat to me?” 

 _Oh I know it_ , Tad thought. Out loud, he said, “He will be, if you hurt something he loves.”

Gabriel laughed. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he said. The genie on the screen – he was not the creature that had children sleeping with the light on and adults flinching whenever they saw a mop of brown hair with golden eyes gleaming just beneath. Gabriel shook his head, “Cipher’s gone soft.”

Tad’s attention was once again drawn to the screen, where Bill was on all fours above Dipper, smirking down at the human with a look that was anything but innocent. Tad looked away, not wanting to intrude. Gabriel had gone back to screaming at Salazar, and Tad felt a tiny smile tug at his lips. Gabriel’s underestimation had hope blooming in his heart for the first time since Bill had left him behind. _Bill Cipher is far from soft_ , he thought, _and I_ can’t wait _for him to show_ you _that_.

Back in the Mystery Shack, Mabel bounded up the stairs, grinning from ear to ear as she bolted for Dipper’s bedroom door, shoving against it with enough force to knock it down, had it not been Mabel-proofed years ago.

Dipper was tangled up with Bill, hands and mouths exploring, but with Mabel’s shocked shriek of, “Dipper!” the two shoved away from each other like matching magnet poles.

“Mabel!” Dipper gasped, once again failing to sound like his breath hadn’t been taken away by a certain smirking genie. “What the-”

Mabel clapped a hand over Dipper’s mouth, silencing him. “Birthday Twins!” She grinned, eyes bright as she gauged her brother’s reaction.

Dipper was silent, and after a second with no gross licking at her palm, she took her hand away, just in case Dipper thought he wasn’t allowed to speak. But still, he said nothing.

Mabel gasped, a hand rising to her mouth as understanding dawned in her eyes. “You _forgot_!” 

“Of course I didn’t!” Dipper panicked, turning to his bedside table to search for something that could pass as a gift for his sister. His eyes had just landed on a book that he _supposed_ she would believe he’d picked out for her, when there was a tap on his shoulder.

“This what you’re looking for?” Bill asked, holding a small pink box out to Dipper. The lid was secured by a piece of purple ribbon, and it was the exact kind of thing Dipper knew Mabel would love. Dipper sent a thankful look in the genie’s direction before he took the box and handed it to Mabel.

“Aw, bro-bro,” Mabel cooed, grinning widely as she took the box. “You shouldn’t have!”

 _Believe me, I didn’t_ , Dipper thought, watching anxiously as his sister pulled at the ribbon with an excitement in her eyes that he could only expect on their birthday, Christmas and, for some reason, Halloween.

The box was heavy in Mabel’s hands, and her smile only grew as the ribbon fell away and the lid slid off easily. Inside, there were mounds of tissue paper, a piece of black card folded neatly at the top. Mabel opened this first, biting her lip as she saw the elegant gold script at the centre. _He totally forgot_ , it read, and Mabel’s jaw dropped.

“You forgot!” The girl shrieked, throwing the box at Dipper’s face. Dipper was knocked backwards by the weight of the box, and Bill laughed so hard he almost fell out of the bed.

“And _you_!” Mabel yelled, turning to aim a point at Bill, whose smile immediately fell off his face. “That was such a butt-face thing to do!”

“Sorry.”

An easy grin took over Mabel’s face and her shoulders relaxed. “It’s fine,” she said, shrugging. “Ive got enough presents the both of us. Come on!” She grabbed Dipper’s arm and pulled him out of bed, not caring that he was only wearing his boxers as she dragged him towards the door.

Dipper looked over his shoulder at Bill, who was still lounging in bed, a slight smirk on his lips. “Bill, you coming?” Dipper asked, struggling against his sister’s tow.

Bill’s eyes scanned Dipper, taking in every inch of his bare chest and legs. He dragged his tongue over his upper lip, “Almost.”

Dipper blanched, hoping his ears weren’t as red as they felt. “You’re disgusting and I hate you,” Dipper groaned. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Bill said with a wink.

“Aaaaaaand it’s time to go,” Mabel cut in, making a disgusted face as she tried even harder to drag Dipper out of the room. Bill’s laughter echoed down the hallway, and Dipper struggled to keep an amused lilt away from his lips.

God, he was so fucked up. 

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ford pulled Dipper into a one armed hug, and Dipper could feel his Grunkle’s discomfort bleeding into him. “Happy Birthday, Dipper,” Ford said, and after patting his back twice Dipper wriggled his shoulders a little, telling Ford that it was okay to let go if he wanted. The only things worse than awkward-sibling-hugs were awkward-grunkle-hugs.

Stan was staring at Dipper from his armchair, and when he caught Dipper’s eye, he grunted a little. Dipper took that to mean ‘Happy Birthday, Nephew. I would offer you a hug but it would ruin the hard and uncaring image I have going on. Have a great day!’ 

That’s probably not what it meant. 

Behind his back, Mabel waved at Ford, fighting to silently claim his attention from the papers tattooed with scientific diagrams and wording in languages that certainly weren’t in use any more. Ford looked at her after a few seconds, and Mabel was glad of Stan – who’d already promised to distract Dipper for a few minutes, though she had no idea why Dipper was so interested in… were they talking about prison? Yes, yes they were. Ford frowned when he saw her sweeping gestures, glancing at the other two men in the room as if they were going to offer some kind of explanation. When they didn’t, he looked back to Mabel.

“Keep him busy,” she mouthed, pointing at Dipper, and Ford nodded. He’d never been one to turn down a mission – especially one that involved espionage. He was a big nerd, really.

“Uhhh, Dipper?” Ford began, collecting his papers in a messy stack, crumpling half of the pages in his haste. “Have I ever shown you my infinity sided dice?”

Dipper looked at his great uncle with wide, excited eyes. “You have one of those?” Dipper had always admired his uncle, and when they were younger he wanted to be just like him. All of that had stopped when Ford went away, but now that Dipper understood his reasoning, that admiration and respect was starting to come back. It didn’t help that Grunkle Ford was just _so cool_ ; why wouldn’t Dipper look up to him?

“Yeah,” Ford said, wrapping an arm around Dipper’s shoulders and leading him towards his room. Dipper was babbling excitedly about something or other, and Ford cast a glance over his shoulder at Mabel, his eyebrow raised. 

“It’ll be fiiiiiine,” Mabel mouthed, waving Ford off, and before she could see his response, she was off, legging it upstairs and throwing herself on to Dipper’s bed, narrowly avoiding crushing Bill’s legs.

“Cipher!” 

“Star!”

Mabel smirked, poking Bill in the shoulder knowingly. “Heeeey~”

Bill grinned. “So,” he said, “I saw someone had a good night.” He winked, as if Mabel needed any more clarification that he was talking about Pacifica.

“Could I say the same to you?” Mabel asked instead of answering, using the same sing-song tone.

“You certainly could.”

Mabel made a face that could only be described as the personification of a row of exclamation points, and it reminded Bill of something he’d been trying to forget for centuries. “So what happened?” She asked, her grin wider than Bill had ever seen it when she leaned forwards, her eyes looking ready to swallow anything Bill said. “I need to know _every detail_!”

Bill shrugged, “There’s not much to say.” There was. There was so much to say that if Bill went over every second of last night he and Mabel would still be talking about it on her _next_ birthday.

“Oh, no!” Mabel said, a warning in her tone. “No no no! You don’t get to hold out on me, mister!” She grabbed the pillow from her side, holding it over her head threateningly. “Don’t make me use this!” 

“Shooting St-” Mabel stared at Bill, her eyes advising him to not even think about not telling her. She raised the pillow a fraction, too, and Bill laughed. “Okay, okay, fine – just please spare me my life. What do you wanna know?”

Mabel grinned, and she shoved the pillow under her knees, settling in for one hell of a story. “What did he say to you?” She asked excitedly, then gasped, thinking of an even better question, “What did _you_ say to _him_?”

“Do you want to get out of here?” Bill said in a perfect imitation of Dipper’s voice. Then, in his own voice, “Yes.”

 “And then?”

“We came back here.”

“And _then_?”

“I don’t think you want to know what happened then,” Bill said.

Mabel’s head drew back so far her chin and neck merged, and she released a high-pitched squeal of delight. Bill had heard the sound only once before, and Dipper had warned him to ‘stay as far away from it as genie-ally possible,’ to which Bill said, ‘that’s not a word, Pine Tree.’

The sound stopped abruptly as Mabel was struck with a thought. If that was what went down last night, then when did the feelings-jam happen? She voiced her question, apprehension already cooling her veins as she wondered if Dipper could _really_ be _that_ _stupid_.

“It didn’t,” Bill said, and all of Mabel’s fears came crashing down at once.

“What?” She shrieked, and suddenly the pillow was back in her hands, poised to attack. “You have to tell him how you feel!”

“Why?” 

“Because he loves you, you lamp-dwelling, triangle-loving goober!” Those last parts were punctuated with hits of the pillow.

“What?” Bill caught the cushion before it could connect with his face again, yanking it out of her hands and tossing it across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor with an anticlimactic puff.

Mabel groaned exasperatedly, flopping forwards and burying her head in the lump of blankets at Bill’s side. She couldn’t believe how clueless these boys were when it came to their own feelings – then again; at least they were well suited to each other. “When Dipper comes back you have to tell him how you feel,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

Mabel heard Bill open his mouth, and she slapped a hand over it before he could utter a word. “Don’t say anything, just listen. You have to show him, or he won’t believe it’s there. He doesn’t trust anyone not to hurt him; you have to show him that he can trust you.”

“Doesn’t he already-?”

“NO!” Mabel interrupted, and she had half a mind to go get her pillow back, but when she saw that Bill was genuinely clueless about what he’d done wrong – or, really, what he _hadn’t_ done – the angered romanticist flames in her heart were quelled. “Listen,” she said, and her voice was so heartfelt that Bill thought he wouldn’t be able to ignore her if he tried. “Dipper needs constant reassurance that you’re not going to hurt him.”

Bill felt something cold and leaden drop down to his stomach. How could Dipper think that he would ever hurt him? He’d never given him reason to believe that- but he had, hadn’t he? The goblins and the gremloblins and the vampires and the centaurs- he stopped there; he didn’t want to think about that anymore. Come to think of it, he’d probably never given Dipper a reason to trust him, either.

“If you can’t do that-”

“I can." 

“Good,” Mabel said, “because if you don’t come through for us, me and Grunkle Stan will take great pleasure in introducing you to punchy,” she brandished a fist, “and scratchy,” the fist turned into a claw.

Bill grinned, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

.

.           .

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind going?” Ford asked, watching Dipper tie his shoelaces. The boy was muttering something about a rabbit hole under his breath, and Ford felt a surge of fondness for his great-nephew as he remembered Mabel teaching him the rhyme when he couldn’t figure out how to tie his laces. It was a nice thought, that some of the Dipper Ford had left behind was still in there.

“No, it’s fine,” Dipper said, rising to his feet and taking the scrap of paper out of Ford’s hand; a list of herbs to collect from the forest. He stuffed it into the front pocket of his flannel jacket, “I like it in there, anyway.”

“Alright then. If you get lost-”

“Find a river and follow it downstream,” Dipper said, finishing his Grunkle’s sentence. “I know. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Ford nodded, and Dipper brushed past him and out of the door.

It was cold out, and Dipper wrapped his arms around himself, his hands dipping under the hem of his shirt to steal heat from the skin there. Before long, as they always did when he had nothing else on his mind, his thoughts slipped to Bill. If he was here, Dipper was sure he wouldn’t fee the cold half as much. There was something about the genie – Dipper didn’t suppose he’d notice someone stealing his internal organs if Bill was there to distract him from it.

He wondered if Bill was capable of doing that himself. Dipper had only seen it once or twice, but there was a side to the genie that was dark and twisted. He wondered if, one day, Bill could snap. And if that happened, what would become of him?

He shook his head. Surely that would never happen. But he couldn’t keep the idea from running through his head. He thought about Bill last night, his hand subconsciously going up to where he knew there was a bite mark on his shoulder. It was still sore, but the pain started rushing away as he remembered Bill making the mark, and the moans spilling from his own mouth as he had. Heat rushed to his cheeks, and it was only then that he noticed it.

It wasn’t cold anymore.

Dipper stopped walking, and for a second, he thought he had imagined the rustling in the trees – that, or it was just the wind. But he stayed still for a solid minute, and no more sounds came. Hyper alert with his heart pumping faster than was probably necessary, Dipper walked for another hundred yards before stopping again. 

The rustling came again, just for a second before it ceased once again. 

He was being followed. 

A slight smirk crossed his mouth as he continued on his way, plans to catch Mabel out running through his mind as he listened to the rustling behind him. Usually Mabel was stealthier than this, but perhaps she’d grown to underestimate him. They’d been doing this to each other for years – one of them following the other through the woods, itching to unleash their ambush but waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

The rustling sped up, closing the distance between them, and Dipper readied himself to whirl on her as soon as she was within touching distance.

But then something sharp was being jabbed into the back of his neck, and a pain like nothing he’d ever felt before ran through his body, knocking him to his knees. The last thing he saw before everything faded to black was a face – one that quite decidedly did not belong to his sister – grinning down at him.

 

.

.           .

 

He’d never admit to it, but Stan was proud of Mabel – and of Dipper, too, though she suspected that he’d be even less inclined to admit to that.

 _I should have had a family like this_ , Pacifica thought, and it only sometimes made her feel like a traitor.

Stan made fun of everyone and everything, and he had taken her aside one afternoon. Pacifica’s heart had been in her chest, terrified that Stan would warn her away from his great-niece, but he’d simply lowered his voice and made it perfectly clear that he’d sell out anyone – _anyone_ – for the right price. 

When Pacifica told Mabel about it, the girl laughed. “Grunkle Stan likes money,” she explained, “but I think he was joking. You looked a little uncomfortable earlier, he was probably just trying to make you feel more welcome.” 

Ford was a little more difficult to get along with. He was smart, and he acted like small talk was a waste of his time – which, if what Mabel had said about his research, it probably was. He, too, loved Mabel though, and she supposed that as long as they had that one thing in common, they’d be okay.

And as for Dipper… Pacifica liked Dipper. He was funny, and he loved his sister and dear lord in heaven, he loved Bill. She remembered, when she first met the twins, thinking that they didn’t look anything alike. But now… she’d seen their mannerisms, the way they fidgeted and the way their eyebrows furrowed and their noses scrunched up in the same way. They had beauty spots, too – all over their faces. And some of them – the bigger ones – were in the same place on both of them. They had one under their right eye, one at the left corner of their lips and one, Pacifica had noticed but would give anything to take back, on their left butt cheeks.

Pacifica shuddered, and Mabel snorted. “Okay, I know Stancakes look a little gross, but they’re not _that_ bad!” 

“No, it’s not that,” Pacifica said, laughing a little at the look on Mabel’s face.

“You wanna hope it’s not,” said Stan, and when Pacifica looked up she saw that he was brandishing his spatula like a weapon. “Princess or not, no one says anything bad about my cooking. Right, Mabel?”

“Right!” Mabel said. At least, that’s what Pacifica assumed she’d said. Mabel’s mouth was so full of food that her words were incoherent at best. She gulped, and her voice was much clearer when she said, “Hey, you’ve got something on your hand.” 

Pacifica held up her hand, staring at it with a scrutinising frown. Mabel’s own hand darted out, her fingers slipping between Pacifica’s and clamping down, “Oh, look – it was me,” she said.

Pacifica couldn’t help it – she burst out laughing. Through her tears – yes, it was that ugly kind of laughing where your cheeks go red and your stomach starts to ache – she saw Mabel’s cheeks flame red, and over her snorts of laughter she managed to choke out, “That was the worst line I’ve ever heard.” And she’d heard a lot of bad lines. Sometimes, she wondered if the Princes who came to meet her were given lines pre-written by her father – the things they said always had a Preston Northwest dad-joke of the year undertone to them. She often found herself thinking about what would have happened if everything had gone to plan. Would Preston have given his throne to Pacifica’s husband but continue to pull the strings? It seemed like something he would do. Teach the new king with the ways of the old – ‘that’s immortality, darling’ she could hear her father say.

“It worked though,” Mabel said, grinning. 

Pacifica looked down at their joined hands, “I guess it did.”

They were silent for several heartbeats – which Pacifica felt in the palm of her hand – until Mabel sighed happily, a smile crossing her lips. She looked at Pacifica until the blonde turned and caught her eye. “Dance with me,” Mabel said.

“Always,” Pacifica replied, and Mabel took her other hand and pulled her out of her chair. 

They moved to the centre of the living room – the place where Pacifica first decided to trust Mabel with her past. It was strange, that there were people Pacifica had known her whole life that she couldn’t bring herself to rely on, but then a ball of blinding light like Mabel swept in and within an hour Pacifica felt closer to her than she’d ever felt to anyone else. Is that what love is? Implicit trust? It didn’t matter, anyway. She was in love with Mabel Pines, and if you defined that love in a million different ways, Pacifica would still be in love with her. It was the kind of love that people write books about – the kind of love that you never want history to forget. At least, it was to her.

“I love you,” Pacifica said, as she and Mabel swayed in time with the silent air. Mabel leaned down just as Pacifica arched her neck up, and Pacifica’s lips were met with the smooth texture of teeth as Mabel struggled to keep the smile off her face. _This,_ Pacifica thought, as she opened her eyes a crack to look at Mabel’s face. _This is immortality, father._

“Mabel?” Stan called out, and his head poked around the living room door just seconds before Pacifica could pull back. “Oh, uh…” Stan looked from one girl to the other, “Okay.” 

“Uh huh?” Mabel asked, seemingly oblivious to the situation. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. I was going to ask for some help with the dishes, but if you’re busy I can get your brother to do them instead.”

“Thanks Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said, smiling brightly.

Stan moved back to the kitchen, but not before calling, “Don’t get anybody pregnant,” over his shoulder. Mabel laughed, but stopped when she noticed that Stan had come back into the room, aiming a pointed finger at Pacifica. “And you-”

Pacifica gulped.

“-I know how to kill someone so it looks like an accident. Hurt my niece and I may have to prove it.”

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper’s eyes blinked open blearily, his eyebrows furrowing as he searched the blank space in his mind, looking for some kind of memory.

Gabriel stood behind Dipper, torn pupils watching as Dipper got to grips with his surroundings.

The room he was in was white, with seamless walls – the door must have been behind him, but for some reason Dipper couldn’t move his neck to look; or, well, he could move it, but it hurt like hell se he wasn’t going to attempt a glance over his shoulder. He was sitting on a chair, but he couldn’t move his hands, and it took him a moment to register that they were tied behind his back with something thick and wiry.

That was when the panic set in.

Gabriel watched the heart monitor on the back of Dipper’s chair with a smirk when it spiked, the boy’s heart rate picking up speed as he understood more and more about what was happening.

Dipper tried to recount events. First, he woke up with Bill. He was with Bill now. Then, Mabel dragged him downstairs for breakfast – it was their birthday, but he forgot, so she was mad. Ford hugged him; it was weird, and not just because he was only wearing his underpants at the time. He was given a list – he couldn’t remember what was on it, or who had given it to him. 

That was it. 

He barely registered the metallic ropes around his wrists bite into his skin as he struggled against them, adrenaline numbing the burn as the wire cut into the flesh, hot blood trickling down his fingers and falling to the floor.

Gabriel supposed now would be a good time to step in.

“Ah, you’ve awoken,” a voice said, and Dipper froze, blood turning to ice in his veins. “I’ve never used one of these on a human before,” the voice came again, this time accompanied with two sharp buzzes that made the ache in the back of Dipper’s neck flare to agonising pain for a second or two. “I didn’t even know if you’d wake up.”

Dipper struggled harder against his bounds, but the lines on the monitor became less crazed as Dipper calmed himself down, breathing steadily as he raced through possible escape plans.

“There’s really no point to that,” Gabriel said, sliding his fingers over the bloody wounds on the boy’s wrists. He brought his fingers up to his lips to lick the blood from his skin when he said, “You won’t escape. This cage was built for a beast much stronger than you, though I suppose you wouldn’t know that side of Cipher, would you?”

Dipper’s heart skipped a beat.

“Oh, so you do remember him?” Gabriel chuckled, casting a glance at the weapon in his hand. “I was hoping that this would knock him right out of your pretty little head.” Gabriel moved right next to Dipper’s ear, hands bracing on the boy’s shoulders. “We could have had so much fun with him then.”

“What do you want?” Dipper growled. His throat screamed in agony as he spoke, but the surprised gasp it elicited from his captor was more than enough to compensate.

“Oh, nothing much,” Gabriel answered after a short pause, playing off his surprise. It _was_ surprising that the boy could talk, though – usually a hit to the neck like that would leave him without non-fundamental bodily functions for at least a few days. Come to think of it, he shouldn’t really be able to remember anything just yet, either – not even his own name. Gabriel realised that he’d paused again, and he said, “Just your little blond friend’s head on a spike.” Gabriel moved in front of Dipper in one swift move, sitting back on his haunches to smirk at the boy. 

It was Dipper’s turn to gasp now, because he recognised this man. “The guy from the market,” he breathed. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but-

“Oh, you remember me,” Gabriel said, revelling in the confused puppy look that had taken to Dipper’s eyes like a fire to kindling. “How sweet.”

Dipper spat in his face.

Gabriel snarled, swiping his thumb across his cheek with enough force to leave a mark. He rose from his crouch, hands shifting to the arms of Dipper’s chair as he leaned over the boy, blocking out the light and leaving his face shadowed – dark and imposing. “Listen to me,” he growled. “You will evict Cipher from his lamp and disconnect him from his power,” his arms trembled with rage. “Then hand them both over to me.”

Dipper didn’t know what came over him, but he laughed. “Seriously?” Gabriel’s enraged look only fuelled Dipper’s grin. “Dude, I can’t even begin to tell you how much that’s not gonna happen.” 

Gabriel flinched back, looking offended. “Of course it will,” he said, and for a fraction of a second his voice lost all of its malice. But the cruel undertones were back again when he said, “All you have to do is wish for it.”

“And I’m going to do that, am I?” Dipper challenged.

Gabriel leaned closer, his eyes lidded and his smirk sultry as he said, “I could always make you.”

Dipper barked a laugh, “I’d like to see you try.”

 

.

.           .

 

“Hey!” Stan called out angrily, and Bill turned his head just in time to see a hand shoot out and seize him by the ear. The old man tugged on the appendage, dragging Bill across the room and through the door. Despite Bill’s (many) protests, Stan didn’t let go until they were in the kitchen, as far away from the idio- _customers,_ as they could get. “You’ve got a face like a slapped arse,” Stan said, and Bill barely had the chance to make an offended grunt before the man was continuing, “If you’re that worried about him, go out and look for him instead of moping around my shop and scaring everyone off!”

Bill pouted, rubbing at his ear. _Ow_.

Word had got about pretty quickly that the Stan’s were back in Gravity Falls, and it wasn’t long before people started turning up at the shack, wondering when the shop would be open for business once again. So Stan had taken the opportunity to clean out the old house, and was selling anything he didn’t want anymore. What Bill couldn’t get over, though, was that people were actually buying this crap. Bill had seen a tshirt with a stain that vaguely looked like a wookie sell for half a grand yesterday.

But, Bill had to admit that years of running cons and deceiving tourists had made Stan wise, and he was right. There was no point sitting around waiting for Dipper to get back – if Bill wanted to see him he should go and find him. He could admit that waiting for Dipper to make the first move had proven fruitful on more than one occasion, but that was no reason to let him take the reins permanently. 

Bill nodded once, and Stan took this as Bill agreeing with his plan, and he left the genie to go back to swindling patrons. Bill took a deep breath, focusing on Dipper – the mint and the ginger and the dimple on his thigh and the scars on his knees and every other minute detail that Bill wouldn’t change for the world – and waiting for his magic to seek the boy out.

There was a tug, the faintest pull of enchantment wanting Bill to take it somewhere, and Bill smiled a little as he let the smoke take him to Dipper.

Bill was dropped off near the centre of a clearing – though, he realised it was more of an _epicentre_ after he’d taken a look around. The clearing was new, and unnatural. All of the trees in a thirty foot radius had been burned, blackened to charcoal and knocked down, fanning out from a hunched figure at the centre of the carnage. The smell of burnt ozone and blood permeated the air, the scorched wood still smouldering filling the clearing with a thick grey smoke. There was not a sound to be heard – not the wind in the trees or a creature scurrying through the underbrush or the soft gasp of a breath. 

That was, until a voice cut through the ghostly silence and Bill would have given everything to have been met with anything else. “Bill?” The voice whimpered, and it shook so softly that the pain it felt shot through the genie like a bolt of lightning.

Another voice shushed the first, and as Bill focused on the centre of this mess he recognised not one but two figures there. The one was on the floor, and the other bent over the first, a hand woven soothingly in their companion’s hair. The upright figure turned his head to look at Bill, then, and the familiar voice of Tad Strange carried a name to Bill’s ears.

In a flash, Bill was on them, sinking to his knees at Dipper’s side. But his focus wasn’t on the boy – it was on the other genie. His hair had turned red, his sclera and iris black holes in his face, the darkness encompassing even the triangular blue. “ _What did you do?_ ” Bill’s voice was dark and deep, and echoed with a rage and betrayal that Tad did not doubt would lead to his demise if he wasn’t careful.

Tad wisely moved himself a few feet away from the boy, and Dipper whimpered when the hand was taken from his head. The red hue of Bill’s body flared at once as he looked down, finding that the dark pools of liquid he’d seen covering Dipper’s body was not just a trick of the light.

Half of him screamed out to kill Tad this instant.

“Bill,” Tad’s voice came again, and Bill’s head snapped up to look at him, a feral snarl at his lips. Tad flinched back. “Bill, listen to me, you have to calm down. He’s fine – it’s not his blood.”

Tad was lucky – so, _so_ lucky – that the other half of Bill was willing to listen to what had to be said.

All of the anger in Bill’s body bled out of him at once, and he took a deep breath, clamping his eyes shut to calm himself down. He prodded at Dipper with a healing spell, but it rebounded, finding no injuries to fix. “There’s an insane volume of magic in him,” Bill said, his golden eye opening to look at Tad questioningly.

And there was. Dipper’s body was bursting at the seams, power coursing through his veins and spilling out into the air around him, a blue aura lighting the clearing but at the same time swallowing light from it. It raised the question, though, where did it all come from? Cosmic energy, Bill could sense that much by the hairs raising gooseflesh all over his body. The same magic that fuelled the stars – but how the hell did Dipper have any of that _in him_?

“Gabriel took him in,” Tad explained, shifting closer to Bill. He reached out and took Bill’s hand, guiding it to the spot on Dipper’s head where his own hand had once been. “And I don’t know how he did it, but he broke right back out.”

“Heh,” Bill breathed out, “that’s my Pine Tree.”

Dipper sighed, and there was blood in his mouth, but if Tad insisted it wasn’t his own then…

“Bill, I don’t think you quite understand the magnitude of the situation.” Tad’s voice had gone awfully serious, and it caused Bill to look up, just as Tad pulled a face that on anyone else would have been concerning, but on _Tad_ \- well, Bill was just about ready to start preparing for the second coming of the apocalypse. “That cage was built for _you_ ,” Tad went on, “and he broke out of it.”

Bill laughed again, the hand in Dipper’s hair running through the strands affectionately. “So he’s strong?” Bill had no way of explaining it, but everything this human did just made Bill fall even more in love with him. But Tad’s expression was grave, still. “What’s the problem, Strange?” Bill asked, the solemn and, quite frankly _scary_ aura Tad was putting off beginning to make him apprehensive.

Tad took a deep breath, as if he were about to deliver terrible news to someone he cared about – Bill was going to deny that it was exactly that kind of breath until his dying days.

“They want him, Bill.”

And as it turned out, those dying days would be starting today, because with those four words Bill’s heart stopped, and it didn’t start back up again. Bill rose to his feet, slowly and with purpose, his fingers setting alight as soon as they were clear of Dipper’s curls.

“Where are you going?” Tad asked, avoiding looking into Bill’s eyes for fear of what he might see.

And he was right to be afraid, too.

Because the battle that had been waging behind those mismatched eyes had finally been won – the light side willingly surrendering to the dark. And there was always a darkness behind Bill – lurking just beneath his every tender word and his every soft touch, only now, it wasn’t hiding. That void was out in the open, and it was calling for _blood_.

Bill turned away from Tad and Dipper, his heels digging into the dirt as he scanned the night air for the scent of rotten flesh and burnt tar that was Gabriel Nightingale.

“Hunting.”


	16. Dipper is the new Bella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last day of school on thursday so lots of chapters to come!!!! got up to 20s dialogue sorted so i just gotta write that shit out
> 
> ALSO: daniel darling, if you're reading this, LEAVE! I DO NOT CONSENT TO YOUR PRESENCE!

Bill stormed through the door to the great hall, where – if he remembered correctly – the room containing all of the surveillance equipment should be kept. Two guards stepped towards him, weapons poised, and Bill chuckled at the stupidity of their courage. With a flick of his wrists, both men caught on fire, their skin blackening and falling away from their bodies as they screamed.

The smoke that rose up from their bodies swirled around the magic-detectors dotted around the ceilings, and not a second after the glistening blue made contact with the sands inside did the alarms go off, shrieking in tandem with the glaring red lights that pervaded the air.

Bill chuckled as he walked past the writhing piles of screaming agony, turning on his heel and falling back against a tall desk, his ankles crossed as he waited patiently for some more very unfortunate genies to rush through the door. 

Within minutes, the room was swarmed with armed guards, weapons that targeted the soul rather than the body poised to strike. Bill had already guessed that the weapons didn’t work on Dipper – if they had, he’d be dead already – but he had no idea as to why.

Bill wore a lazy smirk across his face, but when he spotted a familiar head of dishevelled red hair, it shifted to a grin that he knew could cause even the strongest of stomachs to churn. “I spy with my little eye,” he spoke, and his voice had taken on a deeper quality that shook the genies in the room to the core. 

Gabriel pushed to the front of the crowd, elbowing men to the side as he forced his way to stand just before Bill. He was taller than the blond genie, and broader, but something about the homicidal look in Bill’s eye made him seem small.

“Cipher,” Gabriel snarled, his words followed by a few startled gasps from the crowd.

Bill grinned – it was always nice to know he was feared. “Surprise!”

“State your business here,” Gabriel commanded, and Bill laughed.

“Oh, Gabby,” he said, “always so formal! Here, relax!” Bill’s eye flicked to the side, and a chair scraped across the room, crashing into the backs of Gabriel’s knees and knocking him back into the plush seat. Bill beckoned at the chair with a slender finger, and the furniture drew closer, creating a sound as it raked against the floor not unlike nails on a chalkboard. Some of the genies winced. With another blink, Gabriel’s wrists were seized by some invisible force, shoving them against the arms of the chair and holding them in place. The same happened to his legs, and Bill smirked when the redhead struggled and tried to break free. “They’re not gonna loosen up until you do,” Bill said, and he laughed when all Gabriel could do was glare. 

“What do you want?” The redhead spat.

“Lots of things,” Bill said. “But first,” he held up a finger, as if for dramatic affect, and he could feel the malleable tension in the room. The men and women standing around him waited for what was to come next with bated breath. “Some privacy,” he finished, and before that communal breath could be exhaled, he had wrapped a rope of magic around the genies and dragged them all out of the door, slamming it roughly in their faces.

“Now!” Bill continued, ignoring Gabriel’s angered snarl and the frantic pounding of multiple magical blows against the steel door. He leaned forwards, bracing his entire weight against Gabriel’s wrists, revelling in the pained gasp it elicited from the man. “What do you want with my Pine Tree?”

“Your pet?” Gabriel breathed, sounding surprisingly amused for a man whose wrists were being fractured further with every second. “Why don’t you bring him here and find out?” Bill glared, a look that would break most, but Gabriel was more composed than he had anticipated. “Alright, I’ll tell you,” he said with a chuckle, and Bill altered his mass, pressing down on the other genie’s bones with increasing force.

Gabriel didn’t flinch. “At first I was going to look inside his head and find out more about _you_ , but then I realised that if he loves you as much as he seems to think he does you probably didn’t tell him anything about what you _really_ are. So then I decided that it would be more entertaining to remove all memory of you from his pretty little brain and have some _fun_ with him while you watch – see how much of that you could take before you-”

“Keep talking,” Bill snarled, “see what happens.”

“Come on, Cipher,” Gabriel whined, reclining back in his seat. He looked exasperated, like he’d been hoping for a reaction out of Bill and he’d only now realised he wasn’t going to get it. “You used to love this kind of thing. Playing with your toys,” he paused, a sly smirk taking over his thin lips, “breaking them.” 

Bill leaned away from Gabriel, releasing the redhead’s wrists and delighting in the odd angle they’d been twisted into. He settled himself back on the desk. “I’m not that person anymore,” he said with a shrug that seemed almost apologetic.

“Really?” Gabriel laughed, however humourlessly. He cast a glance at the twin piles of smouldering ash collapsed against the doorway. Bill sighed, and the breath shifted his hair, revealing the small blue triangle in his right eye. Gabriel noticed it immediately. “Ah, yes,” he breathed, “your brother. He changed you, didn’t he?” Bill was silent. “What would he think of you now?” Gabriel went on. “Lying, killing, stealing?”

“I stole that lamp to save him!” Bill snapped, the blue triangle swirling into a cyan flame.

“Didn’t work out that way, though, did it?” Gabriel taunted.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” Bill warned.

“Why not?” Gabriel laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna hurt me, Cipher?” Bill snarled, and Gabriel laughed again, like a man who had no fear of death – like a man who believed that death feared him. A stupid man. “No,” he said, and his tone was nothing if not mocking, “because he’s made you soft. It’s pathetic.”

Bill clenched his fists behind his back, knuckles turning white as they burned, charring the wood of his perch. One half of him screamed to lash out and kill Gabriel right now, but the other was still fighting; holding him back. 

“But you know,” Gabriel went on, “I bet we can sharpen you up again. If you’ll join us.” He smirked, and the look in his eyes was far from joking.

Bill let a manic, shark toothed grin cross his face, capturing Gabriel’s attention as he worked on lengthening his nails into sharp black claws, “Oh, I think I’m quite sharp enough,” he said, leaning in, and Gabriel barely had time to let confusion register on his face before Bill’s hand was lashing out, fingers tearing through the flesh of the other genie’s chest and drawing three diagonal lines across his torso.

Gabriel screamed, blood blooming across his white shirt, and Bill laughed.

Already the poison in Bill’s claws was working its way into Gabriel’s bloodstream, dissolving his veins and burning him alive from the inside out. But Gabriel wouldn’t die today – Bill was planning on playing with him for a little longer.

He released the magic holding the door closed, and hoards of genies ran in, flurries of magic swirling into the room shooting out to grab Bill, but he was already flashing out. “See ya!” He called, seconds before he blinked out of existence. 

The genies would heal Gabriel physically, but he’d seen Bill now – seen what he could do, seen that he should fear him.

And that fear was not so easily cured.

 

.

.           .

 

When Bill crawled into bed next to Dipper that night, he had thought the boy to be asleep. Bill kept as far away from him as he could, not wanting to touch Dipper with the hands that had caused such mayhem. Tad had stopped him on the way back to the shack, and the look in his eyes still played in Bill’s mind every time he let it stray.

Tad looked disappointed when he caught hold of Bill’s arm, halting his rampage through the forest. He had taken care to extinguish every flame that Bill caused, but eventually he grew tired, and his magic was already stretched as thin as it could go.

When his skin made contact with Bill’s, a thin sheet of frost shot up the blond genie’s arm. There was blood under his nails, bright red and so hot it melted the ice that coated it in seconds.

That blood was still under Bill’s nails now, and he stared at them so hard he didn’t notice the dark eyes watching him from the other side of the bed.

“Where did you go?” Dipper asked, voice barely above a whisper. He was pale, and not just because of the moonlight shining through the closed window – Dipper never slept with the window closed – and when the boy reached out to touch Bill’s face, his fingers were freezing cold.

It was then that all of Bill’s self-restraint snapped. A tiny flame flicked across his fingertips, cleansing them of any and all blood, and he dug them into Dipper’s back, tugging him close. He focused on heating himself up; only relaxing when he felt the soft sighs of Dipper’s breath against his neck grow slow as he fell asleep. Tad had said that Dipper was uninjured, but that wasn’t strictly true. There were light scratches all over his body, and he must have lost at least some blood for him to be this cold.

Bill released his hold on Dipper, and left the room, though not before slipping the boy’s shoes off of his feet and casting a small healing spell on him. The genie next set to work on the house – a sleeping spell, just enough to keep every member of the Pines family sound asleep for the rest of the night. Bill couldn’t afford any interruptions or distractions while he was planning.

“So let me get this straight,” Mabel said, almost twelve hours later, breaking the silence that had descended over the ‘family meeting’ Bill had called once everyone was awake – no one even wanted to know why they’d all woken up at the same time eight hours after they should have, they could all guess that it had something to do with Bill, and that they’d be better off just not knowing. “Evil genies want you, and Dipper got caught in the crosswire so now they want him too, and if they catch him you have no idea what they’ll do to him?”

“That pretty much sums it up, yeah,” Bill agreed, nodding. He decided not to tell them what Gabriel told him about the ‘fun’ he planned to have with the presumed-human. He had finally wormed his way into Ford’s good books, and he didn’t want the cover to crash down on him when the great uncle disapproved of the danger Dipper was in because of him.

“So what are we going to do about it?” Dipper asked. He had been surprisingly quiet while Bill was talking, listening intently to everything the genie had to say. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something seemed… _off_ about him. Just in the way he spoke, his voice deeper than usual, and the way his hands stayed still between his knees when they should have been moving around so much that Dipper went dizzy when he tried to follow them.

“ _We_ are going to do nothing,” Bill answered, leaning back in the armchair and kicking one leg over the other. “I, on the other hand, am working on it.”

“What?” Dipper blinked, frowning. “No! If there’s something I can do to help-”

“There isn’t,” Bill interrupted, his expression remaining bored. “Your magic is unstable, your emotions are worse, we have no idea how your body will react to their weapons – or, rather, why you _don’t_ react to their weapons – and you’re about as graceful as a giraffe on roller-skates. No offence, kid, but you’re a liability.”

“Oh,” Dipper breathed. He felt small, and there was an ache in his chest that swelled when he looked at Bill only to find that the genie was inspecting his nails with a kind of boredom that froze Dipper to the core. Dipper’s cheeks blazed with anger - he stood up silently and left the room.

Bill stayed in the armchair, finally raising his eyes to watch the boy go, the same jaded expression he’d been wearing all day pulling at his features – that was, until Mabel smacked him across the back of the head. “Follow him, you numpty!” She ordered crossly.

Bill did just that.

He found Dipper sat outside his bedroom window, feet hanging over the makeshift balcony that looked about ready to collapse any day now. For fear of how much weight it could actually hold, Bill hovered just above it, throwing an arm languidly over Dipper’s shoulder and leaning against the boy’s side. “Listen kid,” he began, and he felt Dipper’s shoulders tense beneath his arm. “I’m gonna surrender to them,” he explained. 

The plan he had spent hours coming up with. He could admit, it was pretty stupid, but hopefully it would be so stupid that Gabriel and however many other genies he’d brought with him wouldn’t even see it coming.

Dipper was staring at him like he was thinking the exact same thing, and when he made no move to say anything, Bill continued. “They’re smug arseholes,” Bill said, agreeing with what Dipper’s grunkle had said about the species – the night he let it slip that he loved Dipper, not that anyone noticed. It felt like months ago. “They won’t think for a second that I’ve got ulterior motives. I’ll listen in, and when I know enough about their plan to formulate a counter strike, I’ll come back.”

Dipper was silent for a few moments. Then, “I want to come with you.” Bill wiggled his eyebrows, and Dipper was quick to slap the genie’s shoulder, shaking his head, because _seriously_? “What have we told you about your mind and the gutter?”

“Pine Tree-”

“I’m serious, Bill. I can keep all of this-” he gestured to himself “-under wraps, I promise.”

Bill shook his head. Dipper couldn’t keep his soul restrained if he tried – it would take months of training to have anything close to control over his powers, and even then, one dark thought and they’d go spiralling out all over again.

“I know that look, but I’m not taking no for an ans-mm?”

Bill kissed Dipper then, mostly to shut him up but also because he really, _really_ wanted to. When he pulled away, Dipper’s eyes were still shut. “You’re not coming,” Bill said, and Dipper’s eyes blew wide just as Bill popped out of existence in a swirl of cobalt flame. 

Dipper fell back against the cracked wood of the balcony, face red with anger.

Bill was taken directly to the brand-new clearing in the woods. He stepped slowly towards the centre, the singed grass crunching beneath his feet. The fires of the past night were practically gone – Bill suspected Tad had something to do with that – but as flame flickered around his fingertips, the area was slowly returned to the carnage of the night before.

Bill could still see him – see Dipper hunched in the darkness, a red glow fanned over him as he fought for every breath. It still shocked him that he’d left Dipper alone – that he’d gone after Gabriel before he’d even checked to see that Dipper was okay. And in his haste for vengeance, he’d missed an injury. Dipper was hurt, and he hadn’t done anything about it.

He suspected that the light still shining inside him had something to do with that - splinters of goodness still residing in his soul, making him emotional; making him weak. That wouldn’t be happening again. He smirked as a little flicker of blue shuddered at that, and it only widened when the darkness wrapped around it, smothering the flame.

In the end, it wasn’t even a fight – it was a surrender.

Bill had no doubt that were the polar opposites to battle, the light would win, but with Dipper in danger and everything he had in the world at stake, that light didn’t want to dominate. It understood that the only way to protect what it loved would be to go out for a while.

Bill sensed a shift in the air, and his head snapped to the side just in time to see a barrage of men, dressed in the uniform of Gabriel’s guards, running towards the clearing. Bill bit back a dark grin, and the guards broke through the last of the remaining trees, charging and surrounding the blond genie in seconds.

“Oh, no,” Bill gasped, not an ounce of sincerity to his tone, “looks like I’m going to have to surrender.” He tried his best to look trapped, but really, it wasn’t worth the effort. One glance at the satisfaction in the men’s eyes told him all he needed to know – they thought they’d one-upped him.

One brave guard took hold of Bill’s wrists, clamping a thick metal band to each. “Bill Cipher, you-”

Bill couldn’t help it; he broke the metallic bonds. “I?” He urged the genie to go on, grinning madly. The guard scuttled back, alarmed and afraid, and Bill laughed. “Relax,” he said, eyes travelling over the other surrounding genies and finding the same look of horror and anxiety. “I’m just messing with ya,” he rolled his eyes, brandishing his wrists to a new genie, “here.”

“Cipher,” this new genie spoke, “you are hereby under the custody of-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bill interrupted, rolling his eyes. The genies all stared at him, and he huffed in exasperation, gesturing with his bound hands in the direction that smelled most like Gabriel. “Let's go!”

Two genies grabbed him by the arms, dragging him towards the entrance to their lair. “This is wholly unnecessary,” Bill said casually to a man on his left, to which he was returned a kick to the hamstring and a snarled, ‘shut up’. Bill rolled his eyes – he hoped Dipper knew of all the shit he was going through for him.

“Move it,” one guard growled, and he stabbed Bill in the back with something that sent electrical pulses through his legs and down his arms. It _burned_ , like all of his muscles were being cooked and frozen and torn apart at the same time.

Bill shot a heated look at the genie, an excited grin spread across his face. “That hurt,” he purred, his voice damaged by whatever they’d done to him, making it deep and hard. “Do it again.”

The genie shied away, unnerved, and Bill laughed. “Come on!” He called, speeding ahead, “We’re gonna be late!”

He led the rest of the way to the base, and the genies followed blindly, not quite sure what the protocol was for handling the literal ‘Terror of Agrabah’, as he’d been so fearfully referred for thousands of years.

When they reached the house, they wrapped a thick red cloud around Bill’s eyes, impairing his vision as they opened the door that led to the state-of-the-art military facilities hidden deep underground. The only thing Bill saw was the light dancing across the door as it drew the locks back.

He was taken down a seemingly endless flight of stairs, and his shoes caused echoes to bound through the halls, bouncing off the walls in a way that somehow added to the sinister atmosphere surrounding him. He heard when a few of the genies trailed off, then a few more, until there were just two holding him, guiding him down the corridor. The fear coming off them was so tangible Bill could almost taste it, and he revelled in it. It had been years since he’d had fun like this – it was good to be back.

There was a metallic clang when a door was opened for him, and he pretended to stumble when he was shoved forwards into a room. The smog around his eyes fell away just in time for him to see thick metal bands shooting towards him from a lonely chair in the centre of the cell. The cuffs wrapped around his limbs and dragged him to the seat, fastening his arms behind his back and spreading his legs. “Ooh!” Bill marvelled, grinning down at his restraints. “I didn’t know it was going to be this kind of party!” 

The remaining two genies grimaced, and Bill estimated that they had locked the door and fled to the other side of the prison block in under a millisecond. “This was fun,” he called after them, “we should do it again sometime!”

They slammed the door behind them.

Bill enjoyed his solitude after that. Left alone in his cell, he had time to assess his surroundings. Solid white walls made from some kind of magically fortified steel, a chair sustained by red sands from the Isle of Wight – useless against him, but a valiant attempt none the less. There was a camera behind him, and he guessed that it was watching him. He slid a hand out of his arm restraint to wave at it cheerily, and an electric shock was sent up his spine.

Bill threw his head back and laughed, the pain tickling his invulnerable form. 

That must have pissed Gabriel off to no end, because the next thing Bill knew, the red haired genie was standing before him. “Cipher,” he said by means of a greeting, and his strong and confident tone contradicted the uncertain line of his brow. 

“Gabby!” Bill smiled, “Finally someone who knows how to have some fun!”

Gabriel smiled slightly, and when he spoke his voice was quiet and still unsure, but there was hope in his eyes. “So,” he began, “are you going to join us?”

Bill laughed.

Gabriel’s eyebrows drew in with his confusion, “Surrender your lamp, then?”

Bill laughed louder. 

“You know,” Gabriel snarled, and suddenly he was leaning on Bill, the heels of his hands digging into Bill’s shoulders, almost mirroring their position from last night. His tether snapped, and he lost the thin scrap of patience he was barely holding on to to begin with. “We could always make it happen.”

“You’ve used that line before,” Bill mused, eyeing Gabriel with an arrogant calm that only fuelled the red genies anger. “Is it the only one you know?”

Gabriel hit Bill with the back of his hand. Then, with a spark of magic that wrapped around his fingers, he hit the blond across the face again. Metallic spikes imbedded themselves in Bill’s cheek, tearing through the skin. Bill laughed. “ _Yes_ Gabby!” He moaned, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Gabriel’s eyes went wide, and he shuddered, backing away from Bill with a warring expression. He couldn’t decide whether to be angry or intimidated, and he couldn’t settle on something between. Bill grinned widely, and Gabriel turned on his heel and stormed out of the cell, leaving a trail of Bill’s blood in his wake.

Bill’s face healed itself instantly, and he shook his head at the effort Gabriel had put in. It had been ages since he’d met someone who was actually willing to _try_.

 

.

.           .

 

 

Dipper sat on the window seat adjoining the triangular frame in his room, staring at nothing as he waited for his Grunkle to yell at him to get his lazy ass to work in the shop. Until then, he was busy putting up the appearance of normalcy, pretending that he didn’t feel hollow when he had to curl up in his bed alone at night, or when he went to ask about something in Gideon’s book only to remember that his genie was gone now.

It had been three days – really, Dipper was so mad at himself for being that needy. Every thought that went through his mind sounded like something a co-dependant heroine in one of Mabel’s romance novels would say. It was horrifying. But it was true – Dipper could admit it to himself, at least. He was a whiny ass teenager that missed his boyfriend.

If Bill even was his boyfriend.

They’d never discussed it, and Dipper knew from experience that kissing and sleeping together could mean nothing to someone if they didn’t want it to. He didn’t think Bill would use him like that - not without declaring his intentions first, at least – but he’d been known to romanticise those he held affection for.

But then, Dipper had to consider the way Bill was when they’d first met. Easy to anger, selfish and, to be frank, _really fucking annoying_. After that, they’d been so busy with Gideon that Bill didn’t really have a chance to reveal a hostile side, and once he found out that Dipper and Mabel weren’t entirely human… Dipper thought, it was possible and more than a little likely that Bill was using them. Playing them like fiddles. After all, what the hell would Bill see in him?

 _See what he meant about the romance novels?_  

Bill liked power, Dipper knew that. He sought it out like a junkie searching for his next fix. And Mabel and Dipper… Bill had said it himself, they had power. It wasn’t entirely out of the question that Bill was just sticking by them until he could figure out a way to take it for himself.

Of course, then Dipper would think about the way Bill kissed him and all of those speculations would go flying out the window.

And of course, without his own ass to worry about, he started worrying about Bill’s.

Dipper had barely survived three hours with Gabriel – Bill had been with him for _three days_. Bill wasn’t the same as Dipper; he was stronger, but Dipper still couldn’t put his mind to rest. Memories of that night were coming back to him, in short bursts that struck like nightmares and shook him to his core, leaving him breathless and restless, afraid to fall asleep. He was surviving on coffee and, god help him, Mabel Juice, but even that was starting to loose its oomph.

Speaking of oomph, that was the exact noise Mabel made when she slammed her shoulder into Dipper’s door, falling through it with a wide grin as she caught her footing, miraculously managing to remain upright as she skittered into the room. “Hey bro!” She said with a beam in his direction, but he barely noticed her. “Huh,” she frowned, head cocked to the side as Dipper continued to stare out the window, and when she turned around and left the room it hurt her that Dipper didn’t call her back. 

Five minutes later, when she returned to her brother’s room, she carried in her arms something she knew he couldn’t ignore if he tried. “Look what I found!” She sang, stomping across the wood with feet that made enough noise to wake even Grunkle Stan from one of his fabled afternoon naps.

Dipper did turn around then, glancing over his shoulder with watery eyes that had nothing much behind them. “Mabel, I don’t even-” his eyes widened when they trailed down to her hands, “what _is_ that?”

She held her arms out, and Dipper leaned away from his sister’s pet pig, which was, for some inane reason, dressed as a rasher of bacon. “It’s his old Halloween costume,” Mabel explained. “Remember?”

Dipper breathed a laugh from his nose, shaking his head slightly. “I remember being chased by that old man after _someone_ ,” he cast a harsh look at the pig, “ate his petunias.”

Mabel barked a laugh, snorting loudly. “Oh yeah!” She readjusted Waddles in her arms so she could look into his glassy black eyes. “But don’t worry, baby,” she cooed, “he had it coming. No one makes a joke about eating members of the Pines family without facing the consequences, do they? No they don't! _No they don’t_!” She looked back to Dipper, a broad smile plastered across her face as she searched for his approval or input, but he’d gone back to staring forlornly at the lawn. 

Mabel sighed, eyes fluttering closed as she thought that it was pointless – she and Dipper had spent too much time apart to know how to fix their strops. And just like that, a light bulb lit up above her head; literally - she still couldn’t control her powers. Depositing Waddles on the floor, she ran out to the hall and down the stairs. “Grunkle Ford!”

She barrelled into the old man as she charged into the kitchen, but he caught her. “Mabel? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Dipper!” She said urgently. “He’s all floopy!” Ford raised an eyebrow in question. “You know,” Mabel went on, and she sighed, all of her energy leaking out of her and replenishing as worry as she thought of the slump of Dipper’s back as he slouched on that chair all hours of the day. “Mopey, sad, _floopy_! I tried to make him laugh but…” she grew quiet then, drawn, as it really hit her that she didn’t know her brother as well as she liked to believe. She missed how close they were; how easy it had been to talk, once upon a time. Her voice was dejected and small when she said, “It didn’t work.” Ford placed a six-fingered hand on her shoulder, squeezing slightly, and this made Mabel perk up immensely. “So then I remembered that you used to cheer him up all the time!” She said, and there was hope in her eyes.

“Oh, right,” Ford said, and he moved to lean against the kitchen counter, his hand slipping away from Mabel’s shoulder to support himself against the desk. “Well, let me think,” he sighed, and he chewed on the corner of his lip as he thought back almost two decades. “The thing about Dipper,” he thought out loud, “is that he doesn’t need to be happy, he needs to be perplexed. You need to give him something to think about.”

“Ohhhhhh,” Mabel breathed, slapping herself on the forehead because really, she should have thought of that. “Do you have anything you can give him?” She asked, not sure that anything in her room would do the trick – while vampires and werewolves were mighty entertaining, they didn’t leave much to the imagination, and romance probably wasn’t what Dipper needed to be thinking about right now. “He used to love those handbook-thingies you used to have.”

“My journals?” Ford asked, blinking at his niece through the cracked lenses of his glasses. “Well, actually, I _have_ been noticing some strange-”

“Yep! That’ll do!” Mabel interrupted, backing slowly towards the door. “Bye, Grunkle Ford!” She called over her shoulder as she twirled and headed through the back door. “Thank you!”

Ford sighed, shaking his head. He waited until Mabel disappeared down the road leading to the town to head upstairs, treading cautiously to Dipper’s room. He didn’t trust the repairs the twins had done on the house since he’d been gone, and he hadn’t gotten round to fixing them up himself just yet. “Dipper,” he spoke softly, pushing his nephew’s door open just a crack and poking his head through the gap.

 _Yikes_ , he thought when his eyes settled on the boy. Dipper was a mess, he could see that now – he had no idea why he hadn’t seen it before. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken, rimmed with dark shadows, and Ford wondered when was the last time he’d seen Dipper sleep. Or eat. Or do anything other than sit in silence. 

“I was wondering if you’d help me with something,” Ford said. Dipper nodded mutely, and his great uncle only knew the boy was following by the sound of his footfalls behind him.

Ford led Dipper to the basement, the steps to which were hidden in plain sight behind an ancient relic in the store area of the shack. It had once been used to store food, but now it was just a piece of history that Stan – conman that he was – charged people for looking at.

As they walked down the stairs, Ford peeked over his shoulder, and the corners of his lips turned up in a smile when he saw Dipper looking around curiously.

Dipper ran his fingers over the runes carved into the stone wall, nails tracing the lines perfectly. He’d seen them all before, somewhere, but the memories were fuzzy and frayed. The steps curled around each other, spiralling down to a cavernous room lit with small orange flames set at each of the ten corners. At the centre of the room, set into the stone, was a triangle. It looked to have been carved out of the rock and filled in with liquid gold, and it refracted the glow of the flames, forming thin beams of light that scattered across the floor.

Against one of the walls, there was a map; one that Dipper recognised as Gravity Falls and the surrounding forest, though it was about a decade out of date. There were pins stuck into the map, and tied to them were pieces of string. Some of the strings formed circles, others looked like two circles that had merged together. Some were large and some were small, and one was wrapped right around the clearing by the creek where the shack had sat for centuries – or so Stan had told him.

“This is what I’ve been researching,” Ford said, guiding Dipper towards the map. The boy’s eyes were wide, restless as they scanned every inch of the display before him. He noticed small holes in the paper where the pins had once stood but had since been moved, and he saw that some of those circles had grown. “Do you remember when I told you about ‘Weirdmageddon’?”

 _Vaguely_ , Dipper thought. He remembered Ford sitting him down and telling him about the event that had changed humanity and almost wiped them out completely. He remembered that he’d been wearing the only outfit he actually wore at the time, a red t-shirt with grey shorts and a blue puffer vest, he remembered that the curtains had been wet, the white stained with spots of green where Mabel had spilled something on them, and he remembered that Stan had been against Ford telling him anything about the ancient event. Ford had told him when Stan wasn’t looking, but he refused to tell Mabel. 

“All of your memories of that conversation were stolen when we used that spell to block your powers, but they should be returning now,” Ford said. He’d moved to sit on a short wooden stool, and Dipper – feeling awkward about being so much taller than the older man - sank to floor, sitting on the cool stone with his legs stretched out in front of him. Something on the floor was hot against his thigh, and when he looked down, he saw that he was sitting partially on the triangle. Figuring that it was this temperature all the time, he opted to say nothing about it. “I’m sure you know that at the time, every mythical creature died – wiped clean out,” Ford said. 

Dipper nodded slowly. He did know that, even though until about a month ago he didn’t even know that magical animals existed at all, past or present. “Yeah,” he agreed hesitantly. He didn’t know if he should tell Ford about all of the things he’d seen in the forest since meeting Bill – if they were hiding from the older man for a reason.

“Well,” Dipper’s Grunkle went on, “about two decades ago, they started coming back…”

 

.

.           .

 

Pacifica leaned against the window frame, arms folded neatly in her lap. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting from finally confessing her feelings to Mabel, but it certainly wasn’t this. Of course, she understood that Mabel’s family was important and in a time like this they were her main priority, but there were just so many things that Pacifica wanted to do with her.

And now Mabel was gone. 

She’d left the palace early that morning, explaining that someone from Bill’s past had turned up unexpectedly and he was wreaking havoc. She had to go home so that they were all together – safety in numbers and some such. Pacifica had asked to go with her, but Mabel believed she’d be safer if they were apart. She didn’t like leaving Mabel when she was in danger – she wasn’t helpless, of course, and she could do her bit to protect herself – but Pacifica still wanted to be near her, just in case. 

Pacifica’s day had been boring after that. Everything she did felt like a chore, and the minutes chugged by like hours. She guessed she’d forgotten what it was like to not have a friend to help the time tick by. 

.

.           .

 

Dipper pulled down the hatch to the roof, wincing when the old wood complained at being moved after so long. He and Mabel had sat up there every night when they’d been waiting for Stan and Ford to return home, but they’d given up hope of that a long time ago, and the roof had been neglected ever since.

Dipper couldn’t stop thinking about what Ford had told him. 

Magic had come back to Gravity Falls almost twenty years ago – he and Mabel were almost twenty. He couldn't help but wonder if his father – the genie half of their ancestry – was responsible. If he’d restored the magical creatures in the forest. Dipper had tried pushing Ford for more – he wanted to know everything about it – but his great uncle didn’t know. The way he’d said it, though – Dipper thought Ford was lying to him. Surely it wouldn’t be too bad if he broke into Ford’s room later, after he was sleeping, and ‘borrowed’ a few books. It was for science.

Science would have to wait until after he was done on the roof, though.

Call him a romantic, but he really wanted to look at the stars – at a specific three that had appeared a few nights ago, a perfect triangle mingling with his namesake asterism.

He climbed the small ladder to the roof - and almost fell back down again. Because there was a man sitting there, his skin deathly pale in the moonlight, his legs tossed over the side of the house, swinging slightly and tapping against the mismatched wood wall. 

The last time Dipper had seen him, he could barely make out any features, the pain slamming through his body eclipsing any other messages being sent to his brain. But now, he could discern a thin nose and a sheet of black hair, almond eyes that looked to be squinting at him through the dark, lilac iris’ glinting in the dim light of midnight.

Dipper climbed the last few rungs to the roof, and Tad smiled at him with thin lips, shuffling over to make room for Dipper at his side. 

“I wasn’t sure before,” Tad began as soon as Dipper was seated. His skin prickled as the magic rolling off of Tad brushed his skin, and it felt like the startling shocks of immersing your hand in icy water. It was bright and white and cold, nothing like the warmth that radiated from Bill or the stifling heat that came from Gabriel. It was stronger than the red genie’s magic though, heavier, even. It pushed down on Dipper like a blanket of concrete, pinning him to the spot. “But he cares for you,” Tad continued, after so long a pause that Dipper had forgotten he’d said anything at all. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, and when his eyes met Dipper’s, all of the air was knocked out of the human’s lungs. “He could burn down the world with what he feels for you.”

Dipper was silent for a stretch of time that felt like hours, then, “How is he?”

Tad laughed at that, a rich sound that warmed where his magic chilled. “Better off than his guards, that’s for sure,” Tad said with a fond smile, looking off to the distance as if he were recalling something long forgot. “I think they’re beginning to regret taking him in.”

 

.

.             .

 

“Read ‘em and weep, boys!” Bill cackled, flipping the cards in front of him over to reveal a pair of aces.

There was a collective groan from the genies around him, and Bill grinned, collecting his physical winnings and depositing them in the growing pile across the room with a flick of his wrist. And as for his non-physical prize… 

“Again?” Salazar whined, already bearing his wrist for Bill. The blue band around the joint looked like solid ice, and when Bill’s fingers ghosted over the metal, it flashed a blinding white. The white-haired genie’s magic rushed into Bill’s veins with all the force of a landslide, and the blond’s pulse sped up when the magic reached his heart, forcing it to pump faster and faster as more energy was transferred into his blood. 

After a minute that felt like a second to Bill and an eternity to all those watching, Salazar pulled his wrist back, tucking his shirt sleeve over the dimly glistening band.

Bill moaned into the curve of his shoulder – the only body part his mouth could reach – and his eyes slipped shut as his limbs started to feel lighter with the extra energy fuelling his every move.

To have another genie’s magic in his veins… it was indescribable. With a magic transfer like this one, the giver’s energy worked to power your body, so that your own energy could be used elsewhere. Bill had done this innumerable times for his brother when they were children, just to keep the younger going through the day. It was like coffee for humans, really - it could keep you going for longer than you ordinarily would - but with the small difference that if you didn’t overexert yourself, the energy would stay within you, and alter all of your perceptions as your magical capacity was doubled without warning. 

In short, it made you high. 

Bill could barely contain his laughter at these genies’ gullibility. They handed over their magic like their lives depended on it, and no one was doing a thing to stop them. Bill suspected that Gabriel was striving to remain lenient, allowing Bill to coerce his men into breaking the rules just to keep the blond genie happy. Bill still didn’t know what Gabriel wanted with his lamp, but he was just aching to find out – anything worth this much to a hot-tempered brat like Gabriel was bound to be interesting.

Bill sighed heavily, his head lolling to the side then arching backwards as he caught his breath. When he sat up, he moved quickly – still not used to how quickly his body could move when under the influence – and grinned at the crowd still sat around him, his golden eyes bright and slightly crazed. “Anyone else wanna try?”

Gabriel growled from the other side of the door.

Snapping around to face a military officer sat at a large desk adorned with computer monitors and satellite navigation equipment, he kicked out at the chair in front of him. Three days Bill had been there – three days, and he’d already earned the friendship and trust of half of his men, all through a handful of games. It had to be Bill’s upbringing – once a pig, always a swine. He could fit in with the paupers on staff because he was once one of them, and it was _somehow_ working to his advantage.

“Have you found anything yet?” Gabriel snapped at the general – Takei, he believed he was called, though he wasn’t sure. He didn’t notice the silencing spell slipping away from Bill’s cell, or the blond genie craning his neck to listen closer to the conversation going on just outside his keep. Gabriel sighed, “We need to get control over him, fast. I can’t stand-”

“If you wanna sit down I’m all for switching places with you!” Bill called through the metal walls, laughter in his voice. 

Gabriel snarled. “Would you shut up?” He yelled, accentuating his words with a kick to the door that made the inside of the cell ring through the genies’ ears. The echoing sound was still with them after the room had gone quiet again.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Bill said, grinning. He raised his voice, “ _no_!”

Gabriel sighed again, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “How are we supposed to control him when he’s like this?”

“ _You can’t!_ ” Bill, still shouting.

“We have to change his attitude, as soon as possible,” Gabriel said to Takei. “But how?”

“We could always get the boy back,” Takei suggested – Gabriel was sure that was his name now; it was written on his coffee mug in childlike, multi-coloured handwriting.

Inside his cell, Bill’s blood ran cold, the stolen magic in his veins slipping away as fresh adrenaline coursed through them. Gabriel sensed the shift in the air, and he smirked. “Ooh. Definitely get the boy back.”

“If you touch him-” Bill growled, his voice quiet and threatening, flames glowing in place of his irises as he glared at the security camera attached to the wall. If he’d been at full strength, he’d have burned holes through the screen on the other side, which Gabriel watched with growing delight. 

“Oh, I plan to,” Gabriel hummed, and when Bill strained against the metal wrapped around his limbs, a shock fired through his weakened state. A slight side effect of using someone else’s magic was that your body couldn’t cope with the demand it had grown accustomed to after it was gone – memory hadn’t served in Bill’s favour in that respect. 

His body convulsed, every muscle straining at once, and the hoard of genie’s he’d accumulated scuttled back, their arms coming up to shield their eyes as something just underneath Bill’s skin glowed an unearthly gold.

There was a sick snapping sound, and Bill fell limp against the back of the chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asdfghjkl how do writing worketh?
> 
> on a more professional note, you may have noticed some changes. namely, this story, which was once set in the past, is now set in the future, waaaaaaaaay after weirdmageddon. the humans had to start again with technology and stuff, but the genies didnt because reasons, so that's what's going on here if you were at all confused. levi out XP


	17. Nice and Durable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those of you who've mentioned that Bill didn't go as off the rails as you expected him to - wait. this is tame bill. tender bill. i have a folder labelled bad bill that is just _begging_ to be written.

Dipper was jerked awake by a sound, and when he blinked in the midnight blackness to clear the sleep from his eyes, the dark shadow of a man stood out against the shadows on the wood behind. “Bill?” Dipper breathed, because who else would be in his room in the middle of the night, and he rubbed his wrist sleepily against a closed eyelid.

But then the shadow moved, the face of a man who was _not_ Bill Cipher appearing just in front of his own faster than humanly possible. “ _Not quite_.” Red hair glinted in the moonlight, and dark black eyes focused on Dipper with a kind of cool malice that would have made Dipper flinch, had a hand not been pressed to his face, chemicals flooding his lungs pulling him back to the black oblivion of his dreamless sleep.

Dipper woke again with a cry.

He was in a room, he knew that much. He saw four bare white walls, a pale grey outline of an imbedded door on the one behind him. _At least I can move my head this time,_ he thought, wincing at the memory of a pain not long forgotten _._

He was sat in a stainless steel chair, his arms and legs bound to the cold metal with matching steel clamps this time, glowing red runes etched into the metal. He couldn’t have stopped his eye roll if he’d tried. “ _Seriously_?” He groaned to the wall, clamping his eyes shut and tilting his head back, praying to every deity he didn’t believe in to free him from this curse. “Again?”

Just as the words slipped from his mouth, there was a puff of air as the door behind his back slid open, Gabriel Nightingale stepping quietly through it. His shoes clacked against the solid white floor as he rounded Dipper’s chair, and when he stepped in front of the boy, his smile was wide and triumphant. “Heya Pine Tree.”

Dipper grit his teeth. “ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“Why ever not?” Gabriel asked, and his smile spoke of an earnest innocence – his smile was a liar. “Oh,” he smiled then, just a quirk of the left corner of his lips, but it was enough for Dipper to have a dead weight settle in his stomach. “Is it something _he_ calls you?” Gabriel asked, and his voice was little more than a breathy sigh when he said, “Something special?”

Dipper dug his nails into his palms.

“He doesn’t care about you, you know,” Gabriel went on, rocking back on his heels to rest his lower back against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles in unison. “You’re just a toy for him to play with when he gets bored.” 

Dipper bit down on his tongue to keep from saying something he probably wouldn’t live to regret.

“Oh, no,” Gabriel gasped, and he looked at Dipper with pity. “You didn’t- you don’t care about him, do you?” His voice dripped with mocking insincerity, and Dipper glared at him. Gabriel’s eyes grew wide, an act of surprise, and he covered his mouth with his hand. “And you thought-?” He shook his head, “You thought he loved you?” Dipper was silent, and Gabriel sucked a breath through his teeth, “Ooh, that’s gotta sting.”

Dipper ground his teeth together, glaring at Gabriel with such a ferocity that it was a surprise to both men that Gabriel didn’t catch fire where he stood.

“I bet that makes you _mad_ ,” Gabriel said, and he walked to Dipper’s side, spinning on his heel to crouch behind the boy, his hands braced on Dipper’s shoulders. “Makes you hate him,” he said, and his breath felt like pins on Dipper’s skin. “Why don’t you say it,” he suggested, switching to Dipper’s other side and pressing his mouth right against the boy’s ear. “It’ll make you feel better. Just say it - ‘I hate him’,” he moved his hand down Dipper’s arm, to the crook of his elbow, “‘I wish I’d never met him’,” his mouth moved down, his breath ghosting along Dipper’s shoulder, “‘I’d be better off if he were-’”

“ _Stop!_ ” 

“Ooh,” Gabriel slid across the floor, coming to rest in front of Dipper, his arms caging Dipper into the chair. “You’ve got fire,” he said with a dark grin, and then he purred, “I like fire.” His fingers brushed Dipper’s wrist gently, curiouly, and Dipper jerked his hand back as if he’d been burned.

Raising his eyebrows, Gabriel released Dipper’s wrist from it’s hold and took it in his hand, tugging the palm to his chest. “And in more ways than one,” he said, surprised. His finger’s slid across Dipper’s, and he could feel the magic pumping in the boy’s veins, and it was no small volume either.

This boy wasn’t human, he could see that now.

“Hmm,” Gabriel hummed, and brushed his fingers through Dipper’s hair. “You’re interesting,” he said, fingering a curl, “Cipher had good taste, though.” Gabriel’s fingers knotted in Dipper’s hair, yanking the boy forward so he could purr into his ear, “I might just keep you for myself.”

Dipper yanked his wrist back, firing as good a glare as he could manage at Gabriel. “Fuck. You.”

“Maybe one day you’ll get the chance,” Gabriel said, and he winked at Dipper before turning away, a smug skip to his step as he headed for the door. “But for now,” he called over his shoulder, “I’ve got another date with a certain blond you’ve acquainted yourself with. Chao!”

 

.

.           .

 

Mabel paced from one end of the living room to the other, fingers fisted in her hair as she muttered under her breath, panic increasing with every second she spent with her brother not in front of her. “How could we let this happen?” She asked the two older men in the room, her frustration growing. “He was right there!” She yelled now, hands coming away from her hair to gesture to the stairs leading to Dipper’s room. “How did we not see him leave?”

Stan sighed. “Sweetie-” 

“Don’t call me that Grunkle Stan, ‘cause I’m not feeling all that sweet right now.” She glared at her Great Uncle, but it held no anger for him. Only for herself. Because Dipper was _her_ brother, and she should protect him, and all she’d done was fail him. Again and again and again she failed him. “I left Pacifica’s so I could make sure Dipper was okay, and-”

“Mabel, you need to calm down,” Ford said softly.

“I _need_ to find my brother,” Mabel shot back with an urgency that was uncanny for the girl, but she could at least try to do as Ford suggested. Flopping forwards to lie on the sofa, she lifted her feet to rest lightly on Stan’s thighs. She took deep, steady breaths, resisting the urge to grab a pillow and scream into it until she saw stars that would probably be more use in this situation than either of the Stan’s were. Heck, the stars would probably tell her _exactly_ where Dipper was.

Her Great Uncle’s looked at her with concern.

“And we will,” Ford said, stepping away from the wall to place a hand on Mabel’s head in a way that he hoped was more soothing than smothering. “We just have to figure out-”

“Where he is,” Mabel interrupted. “And when he was taken – and if he even _was_ taken. He might have run away. We don’t know anything, Grunkle Ford.” She jumped off the sofa then, her eyes wide and frantic as she buried her head in her hands once again. “Oh my God! We don’t know anything! Dipper is missing and we have no idea what to do! We’re terrible people - we are the _worst_ family in the history of bad families in the _history of the world_!”

“I personally do not agree with that statement,” Stan said, grinning just to spite the shitty situation and hopefully inspire something in Mabel that would tear her out of a self-depressive streak that could last for months if she was anything like her mother.

Mabel said something, but it was muffled by her hair, so it came out as more of a “Mmph,” than she’d intended.

“Listen, honey,” Stan began, and he caught one of her hands, pulling it away from her face so she would look at him. “We’ll find him, okay? You’re twins, nothing can keep you apart for long.” His eyes were determined, and there was a knowing spark in them that made Mabel swipe her tears away, no more falling to replace them.

“Thanks Grunkle Stan.”

“Sit here, Mabel,” Ford said, and he pushed on Mabel’s shoulders until she was sinking into the plush of Stan’s armchair, her frame just about fitting in with her Grunkle now that she was older.

When they’d been kids, both she and her brother could fit in with Stan and have plenty of room to move about. They’d grown a lot over the years, but at time like these Mabel still felt like that dependant seven year old that couldn’t sleep through a thunderstorm without one of Stan’s crazy stories that she severely hoped were not true.

Ford smiled down at his niece. “I’ll figure something out, and then we’ll go find him. Do you know what he would say if you were the one who was missing?”

“Make a plan,” Mabel mumbled – she could practically hear Dipper saying it.

“So we’ll do that.” Ford patted her on the head again, and she managed a watery smile for him before he turned away and it instantly fell from her face.

There were a few minutes of silence, where Mabel buried her head in the back of the chair and tried to think of all the things Dipper would be thinking at a time like this, and Stan watched her, silently going through the varying degrees of concern for both of the kids that were customary in the mind of a guardian.

That didn’t last long.

“So, uh,” Stan began, his thumbs fighting each other in his lap. “Can you go back to work now?” 

Mabel gasped. “ _Grunkle Stan! I’m only fit for ice-cream and pugs right now_!” Mabel looked at Stan with immeasurable offense, her eyes wide with shock-horror.

Stan side-eyed her dubiously. “So… that’s a no to the work?”

Mabel buried her face in her hands, groaning into her palms.

 

.

.           .

 

“Cipher!” Gabriel greeted Bill, storming into the blond genie’s cell with a smug smile.

“Gabby!” Bill called back, lounging on his chair, his legs swinging over the arm and his arms folded behind his head making a show of the chains he’d broken out of. The remnants of his restraints were scattered all over the floor, an act of aggression after Gabriel had cancelled his visitation rights. Apparently making friends with the staff was against the rules. “How’s it going?”

“It’d be better if you’d stop fraternizing with my men,” Gabriel snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest. He seemed awfully casual, and Bill couldn’t help but wonder what Gabriel was hiding from him.

“Oh, was that bothering you?” Bill asked. "I guess if it is... then TOO BAD!" He wasn’t going to stop, but he’d be much more satisfied with his imprisonment if he knew Gabriel was just as pissed off about it as he was.

“Okay, Cipher. Cut the crap.”

Bill pressed a hand to his chest, eyebrows drawing in above eyes feigning innocence. “What ever do you mean?”

“Are you with us, or are you against us?” Gabriel snarled, and Bill resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been asked this question so many times. It was becoming tiresome.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Bill answered, putting on an air of confidence as he leaned further back in his seat, a smile playing at his lips. Gabriel snarled, and Bill’s small smile widened. “You know, you seem just a little incompetent. I mean, you can’t even keep a human locked up for more than a few hours. I don’t lend my power to just anyone, you know. You have to earn it.”

“I will get that lamp,” Gabriel snarled. “If it takes a thousand years, I will get. That. Lamp.” He let a smirk cross his face, and he leaned close to Bill, “And if I can’t,” Gabriel stepped away from Bill, the cruel smirk not once falling away, “I’m sure your little pet can.”

Suddenly, Bill was right in front of Gabriel, his lip raised in a snarl as he bored into the red headed genie’s eyes with enough fire to melt right through the other’s morally corrupt soul. “If you touch him-” 

Bill froze then, because clinging to Gabriel was the scent of ginger and mint, sharp and warm and Dipper and- “I’ll kill you,” Bill said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes – that threat was becoming old; Bill didn’t want him playing with his toys, _he got it_. But then, a smirk pulled at his lips in the same way an idea pulled at his mind. He’d been working on the basis that Bill was a possessive five year old with a new toy, but what if he actually cared about his little tree? Gabriel met Bill’s stare with one of his own, calm and collected, and he smiled with a kind of smugness that would have earned him a punch to the face if he was talking to anyone but Bill Cipher. “What if he touches me first?”

And just like that, an image took shape against the white walls of the cell. It was taken from the security footage in Dipper’s cell – slightly edited, but well enough to be a deceit to even the closest scrutiny. Gabriel’s arms barred Dipper into his chair, and the brunet’s back was arched, his arms pinning his chest flush against Gabriel’s. The redhead had to admit that a few days ago, when he believed Dipper to be human, the image would have made him sick to his stomach. But now… and the look on Bill’s face made it all the better.

The blond genie looked like a stone wall built eons ago. He looked ready to crumble, to fall to the ground in a pile of rubble, crashing into anything in his path and destroying it before he himself was broken to pieces.

And then he laughed.

That look - that look that made Gabriel think that he'd _finally_ found the chink in Bill's armour - lasted for a little longer than a second, before Bill was seized by torrents of hysterical laughter that was such a shock it made Gabriel take a step back, confusion sprawled across his face.

“Your magic is good, Gabby,” Bill said, and he shook his head, rocking back on his heels and hunching over a little, his chest aching. “But it’s not _that_ good.” And then he brought his eyes to the screen and it came down. White globs of melted white metal dripped to the floor like rivulets of milky rain down a windowpane. And on the other side of that windowpane-

Dipper screamed as a guard swung a jagged wooden club at him, the weapon hitting him across the face with a sickening crack of splintering bone.

The smile slipped right off Bill’s face.

A clawed hand ripped through Bill’s chest and grabbed his heart and tore it away from him. The guard looked despondently at Bill, his eyes betraying no one as they turned back to the bloody boy in the seat, ready to strike another blow.

Bill sprang forward, all traces of humour gone as he grabbed Gabriel by the collar, fingers breaking the skin and curling around the bone of his clavicle. But Gabriel could only laugh. “Your faith in him is inspiring,” he said, looking through the glass pane at Dipper, his chest rumbling as he chuckled. “But I’m afraid it will be his downfall. If he is the only leverage we have, we will use it.”

The bat hit Dipper again, this time in the stomach, and the boy hunched over, thick red spilling down his chin and he heaved, tears and sweat mingling with blood as he shook, biting down on his lip and clamping his eyes shut as he waited for the next spark of pain to take over his every thought.

Too bad it wouldn’t come.

Bill sent wave after wave of magic through the glass barrier, forcing as much pain as he could find out of Dipper’s body. The pain, stark red and flaring, slowly ebbed, and slowly, Bill saw Dipper calm. He watched Dipper’s heart slow down to a regular beat, and he coaxed Dipper’s lungs to breathe, whispering softly for them to inhale, exhale, inhale…

Dipper’s eyes opened a fraction as he recognised Bill’s warmth touching him, and big brown eyes that shone with unshed tears latched on to Bill’s, and a small smile touched his lips. Bill gulped but nodded, unspoken words assuring the boy that everything would be okay. It was all right now…

“Now, I’ve got to hand it to you,” Gabriel continued, Bill had almost forgotten he’d been speaking. Gabriel picked Bill’s fingers away from his chest one by one with a smirk that boasted cool arrogance and a calm demeanour, “You sure know how to pick ‘em – nice and durable.

“We tried human weapons first, ones I’m surprised we even had in our archives - guns and knives and other pointy things.” Bill still hadn’t looked at him, and he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve already noted that those didn’t work. So then we tried ones for creatures like us, but again, his soul was untouched. We had to resort to more old-fashioned methods; blunt trauma and the like – it’s a little archaic but I have to admit, rather fun to watch.”

The genie wielding the weapon hit Dipper again, right in the back of the neck. Dipper’s head snapped forwards, again with a crack that was due to a chunk of wood snapping off the torture device rather than his bones shattering. This time Dipper didn’t scream, but his shoulders grew tense, and Bill forced even more of his draining magical supply into the boy.

“Oh, you can stop doing that too,” Gabriel said, casting an amused eye down at the barely visible blue sparks Bill had been trying his damndest to conceal. “It’s barely getting through the barrier as it is, and it’s getting thinner.”

Bill growled at him, and his magic refused to diminish – if anything Gabriel’s warning only encouraged it to grow stronger. No longer needing to hide the colour of the sorcery, Bill focused the last of his energy on Dipper.

The magic shot out of his fingertips in two steady, cerulean streaks, weaving around each other and breaking through the barrier of the wall, slamming into Dipper and wrapping around his arms and legs, their light pulsing as they pumped Dipper’s body with every ounce of power they held.

“Well, if you’re going to insist on that I suppose I have no choice but to show you what the block can really do.”

Gabriel stomped across the room, to the glass pane separating Dipper and Bill, and touched a space on the wall. A section of the white metal lit up, a thin gold spark outlining a perfect circle around Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel cast a look over his shoulder at Bill, a dark smirk lighting his features, and he jerked his hand to the side.

Instantly, Bill’s body was overtaken by intense pain – the likes of which he’d felt only once before. The magic flowing from his palms dwindled, though only for a second, gushing out of Bill again as soon as his composure was regained. 

But it was no longer at full power.

“You seem to be experiencing some trouble there,” Gabriel pointed out. 

Bill’s entire body burned, especially the palms of his hands, his vision blurring as Gabriel’s laugh assaulted his oversensitive ears, forcing tears to Bill’s eyes. Pain crawled up his back like lightning through sand, sparking when it reached the back of his neck, sending a pounding rhythm of underwater electricity through his skull.

“The thing about this barrier,” Gabriel went on, his grin still wide and voice still holding a dark malice. “Is that whatever goes through it comes right back out.” His voice held a dark humour that, were Bill his usual self, would have made him stop dead in his tracks. “Only, what would be the fun in that? This is a mirror after all, and what do mirrors do best?” Realisation dawned on Bill, but again he refused to stop.

What do mirrors do best? They _reflect_.

Whatever pain Bill tore from Dipper, he pushed on himself. Every broken bone and bleeding cut and swelling bruise, all directed at him, all breaking out into splintering pain, all at once.

Bill’s vision had gone completely dark. He could see nothing but the blue streams of light still rushing at Dipper, still helping him, and that was all he could be bothered to care about. He could feel something thick and hot slipping down his cheeks from his eyes, down his neck from his left ear and into his mouth from his nose – blood. 

_I’m sorry, Pine Tree_ , Bill thought, and a second later Dipper’s screams resumed.

The faint trails of blue Bill could still see shifted, cerulean going to magenta going to a red so deep it was almost black.

Gabriel laughed. “Oh, Bill. I knew you’d grown weak, but this? Forcing pain on the boy you _love_ -” the word was spat mockingly “-just to relieve your own? Pathetic. But then, at least now I get to go see your little tree. Tell him _‘I told you so’_.” 

But Bill barely heard him over the sound of the barrier shattering.

Glass scattered across both rooms, shards piercing the guard standing over Dipper, braced for another pointless strike. A few pieces broke off and hit Dipper – Bill felt the hairline cuts like they’d pierced his own skin – and two shards flew towards Gabriel, though the genie deflected them with ease. 

Gabriel underestimated Bill. He’d seen red magic – the darkest magic he could muster – and assumed it was to hurt Dipper and save himself. But Bill had control, something he’d spent years trying to perfect, and something that Gabriel had completely overlooked. Bill wasn’t hurting Dipper, he was hurting the barrier.

Gabriel whirled on Bill, sclera black and irises red as rage flooded his veins. “Why you-”

“Pine Tree,” Bill interrupted, not caring what the furious genie had to say. Bill’s voice rasped as his throat screamed out in agony, torn to shreds from endless screaming, just like Dipper’s. Bill waved a hand, and the door to Dipper’s cell blew open, “If you would.”

Dipper blinked at Bill, incomprehensive. “Bill, I’m not gonna-” 

“Go!” Bill yelled, and he planted a clear escape route in Dipper’s mind, showing him to way to go. Dipper was still reluctant, so Bill wrapped a string of magic around him, changing his perception on things – making him _want_ to leave Bill behind.

Dipper nodded, then turned on his heel and ran.

Bill extended just a touch of his practically non-existent magic supply at his eyes, healing them just so that he could see Gabriel, to stare hauntingly into the other’s eyes. “I’ll be back for you,” Bill snarled, and Gabriel would have charged at him if the shivers of fear that slipped down his spine hadn’t rooted him in place. 

Bill smirked softly, shaking his head at the rival genie. He would have felt sorry for him – not many people who made the mistake of messing with Bill Cipher lived long enough to even _think_ about telling the tale; the only thing they did have time for was one last scream of pure and utter agony before they perished. But when he remembered the look of fear and torment on Dipper’s face, and how it was all Gabriel’s doing, the only thing Bill felt was an ice cold heart, hungry for revenge.

Bill saw that exact fear in Gabriel’s eyes now, though it didn’t last long. The world peeled apart around him as he left the room in a swirl of smoke, the last things to vanish being Bill’s glowing eyes, promising Gabriel worlds of perilous pain for what he’d done.

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper ran as far and fast as he could, the pain that had ceased when he was in the room coming back in a tidal wave of raw agony rather than bit by bit. He knew exactly where to go – he had no idea why, but he imagined it had something to do with Bill. He’d told Bill before that he didn’t want him rooting around in his mind, and Bill agreed, but in these circumstances he was willing to make an exception.

He stopped running when he had nowhere else to run.

He’d reached a dead end, at the bottom of a seemingly endless stone corridor, the long white stalactites hanging from the ceiling seeming to radiate a tiny glow of light. Other than the ghostly white glow, everything was dark, but Dipper could just make out that which surrounded him. He was in the centre of a field of backwards icicles, points rising from the ground like stony spears. There was a bed of stalagmites rising from the ground, sharp points forming what looked like a small circular cage with no lid.

He touched the rounded point of one the mounds, expecting to find it cold and damp, but it was rather dry and seemingly radiating heat. Dipper was about to wonder why that was, but then shrugged, figuring it was just another magical oddity that he’d have to get used to. He hadn’t realised how cold he was until he’d touched that stone…

Suddenly, a crash split the silence, something metallic striking against the stonewall, the sound echoing on the damp cavern walls. Dipper whirled around, but he could barely see five feet into the darkness. The sound came again, and Dipper hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him and not Gabriel’s people after him.

Again. 

Seriously, it was starting to bother him how often he was getting kidnapped.

The clang came again, and his time it was definitely closer. He could hear the soft murmuring of voices, the light shuffle of feet.

A hand clamped down on his mouth. 

“Pine- shit.”

The arm not attached to his face circled Dipper’s waist, keeping him from crashing to the ground. Dipper groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as pain coursed through his body, tenfold now that there was no magic to keep it from taking over his every thought. His head throbbed as the other arm wrapped around him as well and lifted him off the ground, gathering him up against a warm chest, the distinct smell of something that Dipper could only describe as sunshine cutting through the pain in his body like Moses or some shit.

“Bill?”

“Mm hm.”

“I-” Dipper was going to say something – something important – but then the pain overtook the sunshine and his head started spinning and he was falling and flying and then everything went black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i am powering on because the part i am suuuuuper excited about the next few chapters and i want to see what i come up with next because honestly im just as surprised by what happens as you are i have no clue 
> 
> aaaaaaand very very soon we will be meeting my dear sweet will cipher {thank you the-ech-bird for helping me with that <3}
> 
> so stay tuned (if you want) because- because... okay i dont actually have a reason for you to stick around other than semi-regular updates of this shit storm so if you're up for summa dat then i welcome you (even though if you're reading this you've probably been here for 17 chapters already so i dont know why im only welcoming you now...)


	18. A Bed of Stalagmites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so after the calamity of the last half of this chapter i wanted to give you all something nice and sweet to settle down with

Dipper woke with a cry.

He was in darkness, a familiar arm around his waist, a warmth against his back that instantly erased the tension in his frame.

“Pine Tree?” Bill spoke directly into the tufts of curls at the crown of Dipper’s head, and the brunet sighed. “You up?”

“Bill,” Dipper breathed, leaning back against the warm chest and tucking his head under a sharp chin. “I had the weirdest dream,” he continued, thinking back on the flashes of memories he still had hold of. Memories of pain and hunger and blood – _so much blood_. “Actually,” he amended, “I think it was a nightmare.”

Dipper propped himself up on an elbow, and promptly fell back down again, because _ow._ Pain tore through his chest, spreading down his arms and up his neck and halfway down his thigh. He breathed a stuttering gasp, joints locking up as he waited for the pain to subside.

“Whoa there, kiddo,” Bill hissed, reaching across Dipper’s chest to tuck a hand under his shoulder, cushioning him against the rock-hard floor. “Don’t move that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s broken,” Bill explained. “I’m working on fixing it – I had to pinch some of your magic though. Is that okay?”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

Bill shrugged but said nothing, tucking his chin to press a kiss against the top of Dipper’s head the only answer the boy got.

“What happened?” Dipper asked. “Are we okay?” 

“We’re both fine.” 

“Where are we?”

“Still in the house,” Bill said.

He meant, of course, the house that concealed the prison they’d been held in for god-knows how long. There were no windows, and no matter how enamoured with Bill they were, none of the guards would dare tell him how long it had been. His brief time out of the lamp had done nothing to accommodate him to the way time passed in this millennium – it tended to differ from century to century, which could get annoying if you were out of commission for a long length of time. Not that time was real, but not everyone knew that, so he had to be aware of it even if he didn’t believe in it.

“You made your way to the hidden wing of the dungeons, somehow.” Bill went on. “A smart plan, even if it wasn’t mine - they don’t look like they’ve been used in… _ever_. As for how you got here: I was hoping you’d tell me. I implanted distinct instructions in your frontal cortex and you shouldn’t have been able to disobey.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Dipper felt Bill’s torso shake as he shook his head. “Though, it did take its toll on you. You passed out over there.” Bill inclined his head towards a puddle of blood on the other side of the circle of stony bars he’d settled them inside of. 

Dipper’s head swam as he absorbed all this new information. He vaguely recalled being led by foreign words in his head to where they were now, but he could have sworn they’d been Bill’s. He hadn’t made his own way to this place, he’d been led there. He simply knew where to go. How else would that have happened if not by magic? Unless… No. Dipper shook his head. No way was it his magic. He barely had any; he wasn’t dumb - he’d tried everything to break free of the cell Gabriel had thrown him in, to no avail. 

But if it wasn’t Bill’s magic, whose was it?

Dipper shifted, and again pain crawled up his arm, but thankfully it was nowhere near as intense as it had been before. Whatever Bill was doing was working wonders.

But Dipper still couldn’t believe that this was happening to him again. First Gideon trying to kill them or enslave them or whatever he planned to do with his world domination, and now _this_. He wouldn’t have felt so bad if he at least knew _why_ it was happening.

But he did know why, didn’t he…?

It was Bill. Well, it wasn’t Bill. It was Bill’s lamp. Gideon had wanted its power, and Gabriel simply wanted to possess it. But again, at least he understood what Gideon stood to gain. Dipper just couldn’t wrap his head around why Gabriel wanted Bill’s lamp so badly. Bill had said that the lamp chose the genie, so there was no reason for Gabriel to want someone else’s when he had his own. Maybe he wanted the immense power that Bill seemed to possess too, but even if he did have Bill’s lamp, it would never bow to him. The lamp chose the genie, and Bill’s lamp chose Bill… didn’t it?

“Bill-?”

Bill heaved a sigh, as if he’d been listening in on Dipper’s thoughts and knew this inevitable question was coming. “I suppose Gabriel told you?”

“He says he wants me to take your lamp from you.” Dipper rolled over to his other side so he could face Bill, pain be damned. He looked up into Bill’s eyes, the gold glowing in the dark casting just enough light for each man to see the other’s face. “Why?”

“Because it’s powerful,” Bill answered without hesitation, almost as if what he said had been rehearsed beforehand, prepared for this very moment. “And people like Gabriel… they thrive on power.” Bill looked off to the side, mouth twisting in a way that was supposed to look charming while he confessed his guilt. “It doesn’t help that the lamp isn’t _strictly_ _mine_ and-” he caught sight of the confusion on Dipper’s face “-and he didn’t say anything about that, did he?”

Dipper shook his head, and instantly regretted it, because his vision hadn’t been that blurry since last year’s birthday party, not that this year’s had been a let down… Dipper shook his head again, despite his better judgement, because he should _not_ have been thinking about that _now_.

After a long pause that Dipper barely registered, Bill spoke, his voice sombre and lacking the light hearted tone that Dipper had grown to love.

“My brother and I lived in a city called Agrabah,” he began, and Dipper tilted his head to hear better. Bill had never opened up about his life before they’d sprung him from his underwater-cave-prison before, and he didn’t plan to miss a word. “Our parents died when we were children, so we grew having to fend for ourselves – just like you and Mabel.” 

Dipper had never heard Bill call his sister by her name before…

“We lived on the streets for a few months, stealing what we could and begging for the rest. Then, one day, a guard of the Sultan was sent out to collect all of the homeless and take them to the palace to be killed. Only, when it was our turn to go to the block, the Sultan’s daughter ran out and stood in the executioner’s way. She commanded that we be taken to the palace to work – he as a stable hand and me as a… well, I did a great many things, none of them legal.” 

Bill’s arm tightened around Dipper’s shoulders, but he didn’t look down at the brunet. Bill was in his own world, enveloped his memories, drowning in his past.

“We were just kids when it happened, working all day and studying all the schoolbooks Tad could smuggle us at night. But my job required me to have a certain… let’s call it an image, and without my knowing, Will – that’s my brother, by the way. Our parent’s were either cruel jerks or really unimaginative.”

His chest shook with a chuckle that held no humour, and Dipper bit his lip as he forced it not to wobble. There was so much pain in Bill’s voice, and Dipper knew that whatever came next had haunted to genie this whole time.

“Anyway, my brother would slip me his food when I wasn’t looking. He got thinner and I was kept just right for my intended purpose, and like an idiot I didn’t notice a thing until one winter, Will got sick. 

“We couldn’t afford a healing, and none of the palace physicians would help him until we turned eighteen, which wouldn’t be happening for a few days.

“He didn’t have days.”

Dipper could have sworn he saw a tear slip down Bill’s cheek, but when he looked again, there was nothing but a stone expression and unwavering eyes of hardened steel.

“That night, after my shift, I snuck into the royal treasury. There was a lamp there – one that was meant for the coming Princes. They’d be given it on the day of their birth, eighteen years early, then on the day that one of them would become King, the lamp would chose the brother most worthy of the throne.

“But the boys had months before their birth. I could take the lamp, heal my brother and have it back before anyone knew it was gone. It was the perfect plan... But, as I'm sure you could imagine, it didn’t quite go to plan.”

Bill’s arm trembled with the tension, holding Dipper in a vice-like grip.

“I didn’t get as far as the end of the hall before the guards were on me, closing in from every angle – ratted out by one of the kitchen staff in the end, sold out to a guard for a handful of pennies, not that I blame her. We were all desperate, and I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same, under different circumstances.

“Two of the guards tackled me, and the lamp fell out of my bag. The cloth around it had come undone in the fall, and as it rolled towards me, it touched my skin. The lamp bound itself to me – I could do nothing to stop it. I was eighteen years old, and either the lamp saw me as a worthy match or it was very confused and latched on to the first thing it touched.

“It altered my physical form. Remember when I told you that power will change you if you’re not strong enough to hold it. Well, that’s what happened to me.

“After the change, I was chased out of the city, and I cannot deny making a bit of a mess of it on my way. The magic inside me was unstable, and it broke out of me wherever it could, lashing out at buildings and crops and a hell of a lot of other things that probably cost a lot to replace.

“As soon as I was past the city limit, my body recognised everything inside of it as a threat, and sealed it away from me. Magic fades over times, but for the first few thousands years that I lived, I was alone. No mortal would come near me, and any genie whose lamp was inside the city when they left it had been dragged back in when it had been sealed. I travelled the world for a while, first mastering keeping my magic bottled up inside of me, then figuring out how to use it by observing the humans and sorcerers I managed to find – though they were scarce even then, hunted for being unknown and potentially dangerous.”

Bill shook his head, as if shaking every dark thing he’d just said out of his mind, and an easy grin settled on his face as he finally looked down at Dipper, flashing the boy a wink. The smile on his face... it seemed practiced, artificial and fake, and Dipper wanted to slap it right off of Bill's face. He couldn't just drop a bombshell like that... a twin brother and a stolen lamp and a thousand year exile, and then go about acting like nothing had changed. Dipper was just about to voice his thoughts when-

“Then one day, around a thousand years later, I was seen practicing magic in the woods, and naturally some hunters tried to kill me because an ass this fine is worth quite the pretty penny dont’cha think? A dodgy deal and a bibbidi bobbidi boo later and I end up trapped in my lamp and buried in a cave, until Gideon fished me out – still have no clue how he did that, by the way.”

Dipper blinked up at Bill. Of all the things he’d expected Bill to say, that was…

“And that’s about it,” Bill said cheerily, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“What happened to your brother?” Dipper asked, his emotional state a minute and a half behind Bill’s, stuck at pity and fear and overwhelming sadness. “Is he-?”

 _Dead_ hung in the air between them, but it did nothing to darken Bill’s cheery mood – _façade?_

“He’s fine!” Bill sang, waving Dipper off with a roll of his eyes. “He’s actually the one good thing that came out of that night. Before I left the city, I preserved him. I bound his body and his soul to my own, so as long as I’m alive, he should keep kicking as well.”

“Doesn’t that… I dunno, hurt?”

“Oh yeah! Stings like a bitch! Just like a constant tug against this part of your chest, right here,” Bill pressed his hand against Dipper’s chest, just over where his heart beat felt the strongest. He hoped Bill wouldn’t notice the way it perked up at his touch, hammering against his chest harder than was probably healthy.

“You must love him a lot,” Dipper said.

Bill snorted an inaudible laugh. “I do." His eyes flicked up to the side, as if recalling a distant memory. But soon enough his gaze dropped down again, landing on Dipper through thick lashes, his eyes lidded and sleepy. Sleepy, or... "To this day, there’s only one thing I love more.”

Dipper blinked, and his throat was dry when he whispered, “What’s that?”

Bill smirked and ducked his head, kissing Dipper’s bruised lips so gently that the boy barely even felt it. Bill had learned to tilt his head since their first disaster at Pacifica’s, and Dipper had been quick to explain that more was not always better when it came to tongue.

Dipper _actually_ moaned when Bill pulled away from him, his eyes staying closed long after Bill’s had opened, a loving look in his bright eyes belying the smirk on his lips.

“Does that answer your question?” Bill asked, “Or is it still a little fuzzy.”

Dipper nodded immediately, stretching against the pain to place a hand on the nape of Bill’s neck and pull him down. “Fuzzy,” he agreed, before arching his neck to meet Bill’s lips once again.

 

.

.           .

 

“Pine Tree?” Bill breathed, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. “Hey, kid, wake up!”

“Bi-?” Dipper began, but before he could utter another syllable Bill’s hand was pressing down on his mouth, effectively silencing him. “Hm?” Dipper tried, and while he made no sound, he did cause a vibration that forced Bill pay just a little attention to him.

The genie looked down at the boy, his visible golden eye wide with urgency. “Someone’s coming,” Bill hissed.

Dipper felt the blood drain from his face as silence settled over them, and out of the pitch blackness came the _taptaptaptap_ of a single pair of feet.

Panic setting in, Dipper hurriedly looked up at Bill, hoping to catch his eyes and find a way out of this situation nestled nicely inside them.

Bill didn’t meet Dipper’s gaze. His mind was reeling, spewing out problems and spitting out the answer before moving on to the next and the next and so on and so one.

How much magic could he suck out of the air and, if push came to shove, Dipper, before the loner in the tunnels alerted the guards? Enough.

How many guards could he kill before they raised the alarm to call for more? Not enough.

How many could he kill before they got to Dipper? More, but it’d be difficult, and the margin of error was too high for his liking.

How many guards could he detain while he worked on getting Dipper out? He liked that number the most. 

The blond finally looked down at his- _Dipper_ , and the boy saw the entire plan laid out in Bill’s eyes, if the look in his own was enough to go by. “Bill, you can’t-” he began, before realising it was futile, what with Bill’s hand still clamped over his mouth. Licking the appendage had proven unsuccessful, and Bill was expecting the bite this time, so the genie was desensitised to that, too.

“I can,” Bill whispered, sounding exasperated, “and I will.”

Dipper hadn’t realised it, but their intense eye contact had taken up enough of their attention that they hadn’t noticed the light appearing in the distance. 

Nor had they noticed it moving swiftly closer.

 _Nor_ had they noticed it stop a few feet away from them, an amused eyebrow quirked in the candlelight as they argued in the dark.

That was, until a throat was cleared.

Both heads whipped around, and Dipper used Bill’s surprise to his advantage, wrapping his fingers around the blond’s wrist and tugging it down, sending a pointed glare at the genie as he shoved the hand down to Bill’s side. But Bill wasn’t looking at him…

“What’s up, square-face?” Bill asked, grinning brightly at the smirking face of Tad Strange.

“Bill, what are you still doing here? I would have thought you’d be long gone by now!” Tad took a step closer, but something about the look in Bill’s eyes stopped him from taking a second. “And why are you sitting here in the dark?” He asked, looking around the room instead of at the genie and his- _Dipper_ , as if he needed to search for the sconces protruding dramatically from the walls. 

Tad clicked his fingers and the candles closest to them flared into beautiful purple flame, the other candles following suit, one by one lighting up the hallway – which turned out to be more of a long and narrow room – until they met in the middle, the final two candles sparking a little as they lit up together, flame erupting in bright pink before settling to a tamer lilac colour.

And out of the darkness, the cave was _glorious_.

The stone icicles rose from the ground and hung from the ceiling, some hollowed out to hold small candles and some filed down to form rows of chairs lining a narrow aisle. At the end of the aisle – the long walkway that Dipper had mistaken for a corridor – was the bed that he and Bill had made their own, as well as two others on either side of them. Behind that there was a stone slab that Dipper thought might have been an altar, though he had no idea what kind of god the genies might worship, what with them being practically gods themselves. But then, people were always telling him that he had to believe in something… maybe that held true with lots of species, not just his own.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Bill said. “But it would be pointless because you weren’t actually sitting here in the dark.” Tad raised an eyebrow, and Bill’s eyes grew wide, trying to convey to Tad that he was _trying_ to change the subject. “I am rather curious about how you’re here, though? How did you know about this place?”

Bill wasn’t curious at all, he knew the answer. He’d heard the story before – it was long and arduous and perfect for numbing the mind of anything that was previously whirling around in it. Which, as it happened, was exactly what Bill needed to throw Dipper into. Right now.

“Well,” Tad began, taking the hint without question, and he fell to the floor in a graceful swoop, legs crossing elegantly as he landed on the stone floor. “I see no reason why I wouldn’t know – I built it! Though, I suppose technically my Great Uncle Môrdęr-”

As Tad delved into his painfully boring story, Bill tried to explain to Tad without the use of his hands that he didn’t want Dipper to know that he was tapped out of magic – that both of them were. 

Of course, they had to get out of this cavern sooner or later. It was only a matter of time before Dipper’s advanced healing had patched him up completely, and when that happened, Bill would have no reason to insist they stay put.

He’d have to come up with a lie, and fast. That, or put his pride behind him and ask Tad for help…

Bill caught Tad’s eye over Dipper’s head and nodded silently, outlining everything he would need with a single glance. Tad didn’t look too happy – his mouth pulled in to a tight pucker, like he was eating something sour – but he signalled his confirmation, disguising it as an itch behind his left ear.

“So, the carpenters finally showed up, thirty years late – as per usual,” Tad continued with his story, which for some reason Dipper was fully invested in, leaning forwards with his chin resting on the backs of his hands as he absorbed Tad’s every word. Bill almost felt bad for cutting him off, but time was of the essence. “But by then my Uncle was dead. The end.” Tad looked up to Bill, knowing from years of practice what he had to do. “Anyway, Bill. I remember asking you a question which you unskilfully avoided. You’re losing your touch.” 

“A question?” Bill asked, perfectly feigning fake-innocence. Just to make sure Dipper thought he was on the winning side in all of this, Bill shot the boy a wink. “It completely slipped my mind, Taddy Dearest. What was it again?”

“Why are you still here?” Tad asked again, this time with a lilt of humour to his voice. It had been far too long…

“I wanted to come up with a plan before we ‘escape’” Bill explained (read: lied) accentuating his words with air-quotes. “There’s no point in sneaking out if we’re going to have to sneak back in again later. Also-” Bill threw this last bit in just to get Tad a few inches closer “-Dipper’s hurt.”

Tad’s minute smile instantly slipped off his face – you could literally see it fall down into the pits of hell. “Where?” He asked, eyebrows drawing in with concern as he shifted closer to Dipper, eyes scanning the boy as if he could see through his body to seek out any injury.

And apparently, he could.

Tad’s hand immediately settled on the shattered bone Bill had been struggling to fix, and Bill heard the scrape and slide of the shards fitting back together like pieces of a puzzle, the muscle knitting back together over the newly whole bone visibly shifting underneath the skin.

“You used to suck at healing magic,” Bill pointed out, reaching out to brush his fingers over the back of Dipper’s neck, where the bruising was already starting to fade. The soft touch sent a shiver down Dipper’s spine.

“That’s why I didn’t stop practicing until I nailed it,” Tad shot back, smirking slightly at the memories of sitting in his room with Will for hours on end, cutting his friend’s skin and closing it back up until he could do it instantly and easily. “It’s not like I had anywhere else to be, what with being locked up in the kingdom for thousands of years.”

Bill snorted at that. “Sorry about that. But taking a leaf out of my book wasn’t too shabby – always do what you suck at.”

Tad rolled his eyes. “When have you ever not been amazing at something on the first try?”

Dipper bit his lip. The dynamic Bill and Tad had going on – they were like old men reminiscing about the good old days, and it was only then that it struck Dipper how old Bill really was. He looked to be in his twenties, but he was millennia older than Dipper, and he was sure Tad was even older.

It was a little intimidating…

“He can’t cook,” Dipper blurted out, biting his lip as soon as the words were past them. He new this moment wasn’t for him – knew he shouldn’t be intruding on old friends. He fought the urge to bury his head in his hands – _I should not have done that_ was the only thought that ran through his head.

Dipper was genuinely surprised when Bill gasped in horror. “ _Yes I can_!” He all but shrieked, and Dipper saw the genie clasp a hand to his chest in the corner of his eye. “Those cookies were _supposed_ to look like that!”

Dipper laughed. “ _No_ cookies are supposed to look like that.”

Bill pouted, crossing his arms and turning his head away from Dipper like a jaded child. He even made that little “hmph” sound in the back of his throat.

Tad smirked, shaking his head at his old friend. “We were discussing a plan?”

That seemed to snap Bill out of his tantrum, and his eyes turned serious – Dipper still wasn’t used to that look on him – as he leaned forwards, resting his chin on clasped fingers. “What’s going on with Grumpy up there?” Bill asked, his eyes darting to the upper left. 

Tad assumed he meant Gabriel. “He’s throwing a hissy fit,” the purple genie explained. “It’s manic up there. Everyone is out looking for the two of you, and they’re all afraid to make a wrong move, just in case Gabriel goes ape on their asses. He’s refusing to call in reinforcements because capturing _the Bill Cipher_ by himself is supposed to be some kind of rite of passage to prove himself to his father or something like that – the usual spoiled teenager bullshit.”

“You were never like that,” Bill said. 

“I would have been if I didn’t have you and Will to humble me.”

“Then I suppose you’re welcome,” Bill said with a cheeky wink.

“Is that his whole plan?” Dipper asked, looking between the two genies with anxious curiosity. “I mean, stealing Bill’s lamp seems a bit excessive for a rebellious stage. If he wants that kind of power so much that he’s willing to go through all of this for it, he’s got to be up to something big, right?”

“Clever boy,” Tad said, though it sounded more like he was complimenting Bill than Dipper. “He wants to move the veil over the city,” Tad said. “Only the city.”

“ _WHAT_?”

Both Dipper and Tad’s heads snapped to look at Bill, whose eyes were wide and astonished as he stared at Tad with disbelief, almost begging him to say he’d been joking.

“Why would he-?” Bill tried again, failing. “ _What_?”

Dipper had been told a little about the veil – it was basically where all magic came from. Bill described it as a sort of blanket covering the whole world – maybe even the universe. And some things could channel magic from it – sorcerers, magic lamps, crystal balls; things like that. And when someone wanted use of magic, these channels reached out and pulled a thread from the blanket, feeding it into the wielder to be used as a spell or enchantment or a gaze into the future or- Bill didn’t actually have any more examples than that, but Dipper was sure there were some.

But if Gabriel moved the veil over Agrabah, then only the channels within the city would be able to pull on the threads. 

“As far as I know, it’s because he can,” Tad said. “And because neither he or his father like the thought of humans _contaminating_ our magic.”

“But it’s not _our_ magic!”

“You don’t think people have tried telling him that?” Tad argued.

Dipper frowned, a new question rising up in his mind. _He_ was magic – Bill had said so himself. Every fibre of Dipper’s being was a splintered shard of a shattered star, woven together with human DNA to make something new and special and _beautiful_. Dipper seriously doubted Bill had said all of that just to be romantic. 

“Bill?”

“Yes, Pine Tree?”

“If there’s no magic in the world, what will happen to all of the magical creatures? And Mabel and me?”

Bill was silent. Honestly, he had no idea what would happen. They could become normal creatures – normal humans. They could be dragged with the veil, tugged by their connection to it to the city, forced to remain within its bounds. Or…

Tad took Bill’s silence as a cue to answer the boy, and what he said was not intended to scare him, it was just cold hard fact. 

“You’ll die.”

Dipper didn’t have time to react to that, because as soon as the words tumbled into the tense air between the trio, alarm bells started ringing.

Bright red lights flashed from every direction, coming from nowhere and engulfing everything. The constant shift from light to dark caused white spots to dance across Dipper’s vision, making his head pound. Through his dizziness, Dipper vaguely noticed being dragged to his feet by strong, cold hands, but the sirens were so loud and the lights were even louder and he couldn’t think straight or bendy or curly or any other way there was to think.

He didn’t hear the guards feet thundering down the aisle or the scream that tore from his throat when unkind hands seized Bill and dragged him away.

He didn’t hear Bill’s monstrous growl as he fought the hands clinging to him, kicking out at faces and stomachs and groins with a fire that rivalled the core of the hottest star. 

He didn’t feel Tad wrap length after length of amethyst magic around he and Dipper – _only_ he and Dipper – the freezing flames flickering against his skin like hot irons. 

He didn’t see Bill being tackled to the floor, two people on each limb to keep him pinned to the ground, though they didn’t do a very good job of it.

But Dipper _did_ see the final red flash of a siren as Bill’s back arched away from the blade that pierced his chest right through the middle. He _did_ hear the clang of the metal against the stone as it exited through Bill’s back, stained red. He _did_ feel Tad’s hold on his arms tighten as the last of the lilac world faded around him.

And then he _saw_ nothing and _heard_ nothing and _felt_ nothing and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIKE!!!!
> 
> okay, that was mean, but after a handful of comments from crying children who need reassurance, i would like to promise you that bill is going to be okay :-)


	19. Tidal Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes it has been AGES since I last updated so here! take this severely unedited piece of crap!

Mabel tromped through the last of the bushes, her tongue sticking out with concentration as she tried not to fall into the sandy-muddy-atrocity that was the Gravity Falls beach. The rain was pelting down like tiny bullets, and she was soaked through to the bone. She had taken her sweater off - it wasn’t especially cold out, and the sodden wool was only weighing her down – but on the exposed and windy flat of the beach she was beginning to regret her choice. 

She had been looking for Ford for hours, a sense of dread and unease settling deeper and deeper into her heart the further she walked without finding him. She called his name occasionally, but after a few miles with no sign of him, she decided it would be best to continue her search in silence. The past few months had shed light on this little town, and Mabel suspected that wolves and bears were the least of her worries this deep into the woods. She didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention, especially not from a supernatural creature that might want to cook her alive or wear her skin like a jacket or… she should probably stop reading those kinds of books, come to think of it.

It had become a constant anxiety that if she didn’t keep an eye on her family members, they were going to disappear on her as well. It was like the universe was trying to keep everything in check; she’d found Stan and Ford but she’d lost Bill and now Dipper, as well. Her mind had strayed more than once to the possibility that they had ran off together, but the more she thought on it the more she realised that that was absurd. Dipper had no reason to leave Gravity Falls, and if he did, he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye – she knew that. It wasn’t even buried deep down – Dipper would _never_ leave her. The thought that he’d left shouldn’t even have crossed her mind.

But it did.

She wished she had something solid to blame it on, stress or nightmares or something tampering with her trust in her brother, but it was all her. Though, ‘her’ was a bit of a stretch - she hadn’t been herself at all lately. She was quick to anger, yelling over the slightest things and storming off and being rude and petty for no reason whatsoever. She was sleeping in until the early afternoon, lying about errands she had to run and cutting corners with her chores so she wouldn’t have to work. She was lounging around the house rather than going out to be productive, falling behind on making things to sell in the shop – things she used to love doing. She knew that if it went on any longer the Stans would start to suspect something was up, if they didn’t already. She also knew that it – whatever _it_ was – was something to do with Dipper being gone – it had to be, there was no other reason for it.

But Mabel’s own problems weren’t her main priority at the moment.

She had spoken to Pacifica earlier that day. The Princess had sent the royal guard to collect Mabel from the shack – something about a threat to the monarchy forcing Pacifica’s mother to insist she stay within the palace walls at all times the only thing preventing the princess from coming herself. The letter Pacifica had written her – hastily, if the scrawling handwriting was anything to go by – insisted that she come to the palace right away (there were also some cute love hearts drawn around her signature which Mabel couldn’t have resisted if she’d tried).

The horse-drawn carriage had barely passed the courtyard gates before Pacifica had kicked off her shoes and darted through the palace doors. She raced down the path to Mabel, bundles of skirt gathered in her arms as she tried desperately to protect the silk from the mud that had taken over the kingdom.

The weather had been terrible lately – not a peek of sunshine since Dipper went missing. And it always seemed to be raining, which just made Mabel even less motivated to do anything. Things really just weren’t working in her favour right now… 

_And then_ Pacifica just had to go and drop the bombshell that the Gideon dreams had started again.

Pacifica had explained that she hadn’t thought anything of them at first. The way Gideon treated her and her mother and the way he had killed her father and locked her up in that pit of snakes… it was enough to give anyone nightmares. So she would drink the tea that Ford had given her to help with the night terrors and sleep with guards stationed outside the door to give her peace of mind, and everything would be fine.

Until she’d started being dragged to sleep in the middle of the day.

First it was when she was at the dining table, eating breakfast alone because her mother was too busy to dine nowadays, what with the coronation coming up and all. She’d blacked out, just for a second, and her mind was bombarded with images of Gideon screaming, his milky skin drenched in blood, the world so dark around him that Pacifica thought it could suck up all the light in the universe. A guard had recommended she go back to bed if she was tired, but it wasn’t that, she was sure of it…

The second time it happened, she was out riding. She had taken Penelope – one of the many horses that lived in the palace – out for a ride. If the stable hand hadn’t been around to stop the horse from trampling her, she probably wouldn’t have had to worry about nightmares for very much longer anyway. The boy hadn’t seen the princess fall from the horse – he’d just heard the screaming. In this second dream, Pacifica was being held down, nothing around her but ice-cold darkness. And then, out of nowhere, came Gideon’s voice, along with a searing, blistering, excruciating pain that winded the girl just to think about it.

Pacifica had woken up hours later, tucked up in bed with a cold towel draped across her forehead, no more rested than she had been before the fall – maybe even less.

It was then that she figured it would be best to contact Mabel, despite the warnings the Pines girl had left her with. Pacifica knew that Mabel was avoiding her to keep her safe, but she wasn’t feeling all that safe at that particular time, and she felt it was worth the risk to ask for another analysis of these dreams and hopefully get something a lot stronger than a herb-smoothie to help her through the night.

So that was what Mabel was doing now – trouncing through a cold, damp forest and getting her favourite boots muddy because Ford just couldn’t stay at home, where it was safe and warm and not twenty miles away from _everything_.

She stepped out on to the beach, foot sinking down to the ankle in gloop. She scanned the coastline for a familiar brown jacket – not the one she had stolen from her great uncle when she was a child, Ford had let her keep that one. Her eyes fell on her grunkle, knee deep in the lake just to the left of the rocky cliff face. He had either not noticed or blatantly ignored the signs to ‘keep out of the lake’ and ‘steer clear of the cliff face’. “Grunkle Ford!” Mabel yelled, and she took off at a sprint across the small stretch of sand, narrowly avoiding the sludge worm dens dotted all over the beach.

The older man turned around immediately, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when he saw Mabel racing across the beach towards him. He waited for her to draw nearer before saying, “What brings you all the way out here?” 

“Pacifica,” Mabel said, her voice strained after the run. She could barely hear herself think over the pounding of her heart. “Her nightmares are getting worse. Actually, I meant to ask you if you’re absolutely sure that they’re regular nightmares, because I’m really not Grunkle Ford, and I think she’s getting scared. Like, really scared.”

Ford frowned. He shook some of the water off of his hands – what was he doing, anyway? – and stepped out of the lake, moving to stand next to Mabel. “This Gideon…” he began, then stopped, not quite sure how to word his question. “Was he… like Bill?”

Mabel snorted, picturing the pasty little rug rat with a grin. “He was about as different from Bill as you can get!”

Ford allowed himself a soft, slightly awkward chuckle at that. “I mean,” he amended, “was he a genie too?”

Mabel shook her head, then nodded. “He was,” she said. “But for like, five seconds. Then we stuffed him in his little box and sent him to the void.” Mabel made a gesture that looked vaguely like punching something repeatedly into the ground then throwing it over her shoulder.

Ford hummed sceptically, his hand coming up to rub the stubble on his jaw. “I learned a few things from your father, back in the day. He told me that some genies have gifts – things that set them apart from the others, make them even more unique. Telepathy, Pyrokineses, Clairvoyance, there’s no limit to the number of powers a single genie can possess. Is it at all possible that he became telepathic when…” Ford frowned, “What happened to him, anyway? Becoming a genie doesn’t sound like it came easy.”

“Dodgy wish,” Mabel explained offhandedly, more concerned with the question that came just before. “He was always good at reading people. Maybe he was like that before…?”

“No,” Ford said. “Humans have been known to do strange things, but nothing like that. Although, it isn't out of the question to believe that his intuition grew stronger when he changed. Being able to read people changed into the ability to totally invade their minds.”

“If it is that, what can we do about it?” Mabel asked, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and biting down on it nervously. She wanted to help Pacifica in any way possible. She wanted Dipper to help her help Pacifica even more. Without him it was almost impossible to think. Every solution that crossed her mind felt childish and weak.

“We could always place a metal sheet inside her skull. That way-”

“Nope!” Mabel interrupted, shaking her head, eyes clamped shut as she fought away the mental images. “You are not putting anything anywhere inside my- _Princess Pacifica’s_ brain.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Ford insisted. “See?” He rapped his knuckles against his left temple and a metallic clang rang out, his smile wide and encouraging.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mabel said, eyeing her great uncle a little uncertainly. “Anyway, what were you doing all the way out here?” She peered over the man’s shoulder at the lake, the water deadly still and, by the looks of it, freezing cold. She was pretty sure that if she were to look, the tidepools would be completely iced over. 

“Testing the water,” Ford explained. He turned away from his great niece to look out on the horizon, the lake stretching further than the eye could see from this height. “I was hoping to find traces of something connected to Dipper, but-”

“In a lake?” Mabel stared up at the man incredulously, her eyebrows furrowing despite her oblivious smile, her confusion showing less than her curiosity. “Why would you be searching in the lake?” 

“Ah, I don’t quite know how to say this but…” Ford bit down on his lip and whistled, the pitch dropping as his finger travelled downwards, his fingers flaring out as he made a small splashing sound. His eyes darted over to the cliff, just for a brief second, but it was enough to have Mabel’s blood boiling.

“He’s not dead.”

“I didn’t say he was, Mabel. I’m just covering all the-”

“If he was dead, I would know it. I’d _feel_ it!” Rage bubbled just below the surface of her skin, thrumming in her veins like liquid fire. It was hot and it was cold, like steam in a cage of ice. It didn’t make any sense.

“A lot of people-”

“He’s! Not! _Dead_!” Mabel’s voice rose to a shout as she glared up at her uncle with venom in her eyes. Her body was shaking, hands forming fists at her sides. Her nails dug into her palms as she burned ice cold.

There was a lurid roar, just as Mabel’s mouth snapped shut with a final clack. Both brunettes’ heads snapped to the side, their mouths popping open when they laid eyes on the water. The lake was disappearing fast, tumbling upwards into a tower of flowing water.

A backwards waterfall climbed up through the sky, cutting through clouds and disappearing above them.

The sound was horrific, like a river with the volume turned up, and it carried voices like screams within it, reverberating inside the tower of waves and echoing across the empty beach.

Mabel’s anger dissipated instantly. Fear for her uncle and for herself overriding that which that had once threatened to take over, Mabel shook her head back into working order. Two pairs of brown eyes stared at the flowing turret, unblinking and amazed. But surprise and shock soon gave way to panicked terror as the top of the tower began to fall away. 

The two gulped.

“Run?” Ford suggested, sounding calm despite the water falling down, crashing towards them at an alarming rate.

“Run,” Mabel agreed. Not a moment later was her uncle’s hand clasping her own, urging her to move and dragging her towards the cover of the trees.

But they simply weren’t fast enough.

More and more water came crashing down, raindrops the size of footballs colliding with the ground behind them. The already surging body of water moved faster and faster with every hit. Tidal waves chased after the two faster than either of them could run.

Spray from the collapsing lake hit Ford first, then his niece. “Mabel!” The man gasped. He stopped moving completely and pulled the girl hard against his chest. He bent down over her, shielding her from the wave that was inches away from crushing them both. 

If they continued to run, both of their bodies would be destroyed by the water, but this way, Mabel had a fighting chance if she could just swim to safety. Holding her breath wouldn’t be a problem, she just had to survive the impact.

“Grunkle-” Mabel could see the water coming towards them over the man’s shoulder. It was dark and fast and there was just so damn much of it- 

“Shh,” Ford breathed. He held Mabel tighter as the roaring behind them grew louder and louder and louder and- 

Not a drop of the water hit them. 

The wave surged over them, wrapped around them, but they were bone dry. It was as if a bubble had surrounded them, a pocket of dry air cradling them as the water crashed over. The weight of the lake should have crushed them, or at least Ford, but something had stopped it.

As roaring waves crashed over them, the force of the water never once hit them, though it still made its presence known with the rising pressure and plummeting temperature and dark shadows engulfing the two in stone cold blackness.

Mabel buried her head in Ford’s chest, waiting for whatever this protection was to give way and for the water to break down on them both, a cruel end after a moment of hope.

But it never came.

It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it had felt like hours. Days. Years. There was a tense silence as the water settled, where neither of the two could open their eyes, let go of the other, look up to confirm that the water had receded and that they were okay.

Ford had stopped breathing, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he wrapped around Mabel, shielding her from danger, braced for an impact that would never come.

Mabel clutched her uncle’s lapels, eyes clamped shut and head buried in his shoulder, her body shaking and thrumming with exertion. When the roaring of the waves stopped, she was the first to open her eyes. She looked up, movements stiff, jerky. She opened one eye, and then the other, only to see that everything was all right. They were stood on the beach, the lake just a few metres from their feet, barely moving against the sandy shore.

“Great Uncle Ford,” she whispered, and he, too, peeled his eyes open, glancing at their surroundings with equal amounts of confusion and relief. Mabel held on to the man even tighter. She felt tears prickling in her eyes. She really hoped she wouldn’t cry. “What was that?”

Ford leaned back an inch, looking down at the top of the girl’s head. “I think it was you.”

Mabel shook her head without realising she was doing it. “But I didn’t do anything.” She whispered. Her face was still pressed against the warm fluff of Ford’s sweater, the fabric welcoming and familiar.

The man lifted his hand to Mabel’s head, petting her hair with the kind of awkward affection he usually strove to avoid. “I think you must have.” 

Mabel’s voice cracked when she said, “I didn’t mean to.”

Ford’s arms tightened around her. “I know.” 

Fat tears slipped down Mabel’s cheeks, soaking into Ford’s dry inner layers. “Bill was right,” she cried, body crumpling in on itself. If Ford hadn’t been holding her up, she would have fallen to the floor.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Ford said, and his chest rumbled as he forced a chuckle. Mabel was crying and he didn’t know what to do - Stan was the one who handled these things, not him…

“I have to learn to control this. Before I hurt somebody.” Mabel said, her voice shaking but not as badly as before. She caused that wave – her and her stupid temper. But it hadn’t hurt them; she’d saved Ford. She’d saved herself…

Ford shook his head, “You could never hurt anyone, Mabel.”

“ _You don’t know that_.”

Ford gripped Mabel’s shoulders, pushing her away from him to look into her eyes, his own brown gaze sure and steady. “I know _you,_ Mabel. You’re not going to hurt anyone.”

She sniffed, “But what if I do?” 

“If we spent our lives dwelling on ‘what if’s, no one would do anything.” Ford said. He sighed silently, swiped one of Mabel’s tears away with his thumb. She nodded, but she still looked uncertain, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Squeezing her upper arm in a way that was surprisingly comforting, he steered her in the direction of the shack. “C’mon, let’s go home,” he said. “I know where Stan hides the ice cream.”

Mabel sniffed and swiped at her eyes with her sleeve, and even managed a small laugh. “Okay.”

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper woke with a start, eyes flying open as he was flooded with memories of red eyes red lights red _blood_. Memories of a dream, a nightmare, a reality. He didn’t know. Everything was a blur. He didn’t know what was real, and what was- 

“Bill!” 

The last thing he remembered of his genie, his friend, his _everything else_ , a dagger had just been plunged through his chest. They were in that cave, swathed in blistering light that struck his head with pain and forced him to his knees. He felt that knife now, sitting in his heart, making him bleed. The redness overtook his eyes, turned his vision crimson-

But the light here, now, it was nice. It was lilac and pale and he didn’t know where he was but he recognised the warmth that hit him. Now he was-

“It’s pronounced _Tad_ ,” a voice spoke from the foot of the bed. “But I can see where you got confused. Phonetically they are rather similar.”

Dipper tried to sit up, but immediately his vision started to sway, a feeling not unlike pins and needles rushing through his skull. A gentle pressure on his shoulder pushed him back down, Tad’s steady hand checking his temperature before sliding away. For a long moment Dipper just stayed still, eyes clamped shut, holding his breath.

Dipper sighed, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was pain… everywhere. “Shit.”

“Language,” Tad scolded him. 

“What happened?” Dipper asked, his eyes remaining closed as he reeled through recent events. Now that his mind was a little more coherent, he knew that Bill being stabbed couldn’t be real – the genie was invulnerable, he’d said so himself. It had to have been a dream. But if it was a figment of his imagination, then- Dipper opened his eyes a crack. “Where’s Bill?”

It was Tad’s turn to sigh then, his back slouching against the wall. His legs were tossed haphazardly over Dipper’s – he had checked for leg injuries beforehand, of course, but after finding none he saw no reason to leave a perfectly good footrest out of commission. “I have no idea,” the genie admitted.

“ _What?_ ” 

Dipper’s eyes flew open again, only this time he also bolted up, throwing himself off the bed and staring down at Tad with a panic in his eyes. “We have to go find him!” His vision was swimming, and he wasn’t sure which Tad to focus on – there were currently five. Or was that seven… “He might need our help! He could be hurt, or-”

Dipper faltered then. He didn’t want to say dead, and he suspected that neither did Tad, but the likelihood of Bill being stabbed in a dream was becoming less and less with every passing moment. And if it was real… Dipper had seen a knife go straight through Bill’s chest. It had hit the floor beneath him, gone right through him. Invulnerable or not, that couldn’t have left him in a good condition.

“Bill can take care of himself,” Tad said, and the worried look he had cast at Dipper diminished as he looked away, staring instead at his hands folded neatly atop his thighs. “And you are in no condition to form a rescue mission,” Tad continued. “Not to mention that if I allow you to go get him when you’re in that-” he waved a hand at Dipper’s bruised and battered form “- _state_ , the fist thing Bill will do when you get him back is kill _me_ for letting you do something so _stupid_.” Tad shook his head, “I like you kid, but I like me more.”

Dipper was silent for a long moment, just standing there, watching Tad with curiosity. Every time he’d spoken to this genie, he’d seemed different. But he always seemed fond of Bill. Maybe if he… “What if I was better?” Dipper asked. If Tad got along with Bill so well, then maybe they’d both fall prey to the same arguments. 

“Well then it’d be _fine_ ,” Tad said, his tone oozing sarcasm.

But then, maybe not…

So perhaps if Dipper did what _Bill_ would do…

“Excellent,” Dipper said, clapping his hands together and totally disregarding Tad’s sarcastic words, just as he’d seen Bill do so many times before. “So you fix me up, and then I’ll go.” He contemplated throwing in a twisted smile, but figured it’d be best to leave that out – he’d probably just botch it up and come across as a deranged idiot, anyway. “Be back before you know it!”

If Tad were a less refined gentleman, he would have snorted. “Kid, in the state I’m in, I wouldn’t trust myself to fix a sandwich. I drained myself getting us out of that cave.” Tad looked at Dipper then, and his eyes truly did look sorry that he couldn’t be of more use. It only then occurred to Dipper that Tad and Bill were childhood friends. He probably wanted Bill back just as much as Dipper did, if not more.

Dipper sighed and flopped back down on the bed, keeping his legs as far away from the Tad’s as possible. He still wasn’t too good with the whole ‘touching people’ thing. He cast a glance at Tad, head dipping to the side like he didn’t have the energy to hold it up any longer. He waited for those amethyst eyes to meet his own before he asked, “Do you know how long it’ll take? For you to… recharge?” 

Tad shifted, pushing himself further away from the wall so that he was lying lengthways across the bed, legs hanging over the side. “A while,” Tad said, and he tossed one arm over his eyes. Dipper wondered if he was going to go to sleep.

Tad had said that he was drained, and Dipper assumed he was referring to his magic. He had seen Bill drained of magic only once, and he hadn’t looked well at all – and he’d barely been doing anything. Tad had been speaking to Dipper all this time, and probably forcing himself to stay awake just to make sure the boy was okay. If he needed a few hours rest then Dipper was happy to shut up and let him sleep.

And then he remembered.

The last time Bill had been like this was just before the fight with Gideon. Bill had been thin, haggard and tied down at Gideon’s feet – Dipper almost thought it laughable now. Bill Cipher submitting to the overgrown oompa loompa that was Gideon Gleeful. But then, after Gideon had made his wish, Bill was perfectly fine. 

Bill had said that when the gateway to the veil opened, he could pull out as much magic as he could hold, and store any excess inside of himself. If that bodes true to all genies, then…

Dipper prodded Tad with his knee. “Would it help if I-”

“Put a sock in it?” Tad deadpanned. “Yes.”

Dipper cleared his throat, “Made a wish?”

Tad’s arm slid away from his face, one eye slanting open sceptically. “You’d do that?”

“If it’d help Bill, yes.”

Tad frowned. “Why?”

“Excuse me?”

Tad sat up, his legs crossing in front of himself neatly as he turned to face the boy. “You would do anything to help him,” he started. It sounded like a question, so Dipper nodded silently, urging Tad to go on. “You barely know him,” the genie continued.

“I-”

Tad sighed heavily, and he eyed Dipper with a strange look. Dipper wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but it reminded him of the way parents looked at their children when they thought they were doing something they’d regret later on. “I’ve no right to tell you what you can and can’t feel,” Tad went on, “but are you sure you’re not rushing into things? Trying to be the hero to impress people you have no business bothering with at all?”

“I…” Dipper shook his head. “I’m trying to help someone out of a possibly life-threatening situation. I’m not trying to impress anyone, I’m just… trying to do what I think is right. It doesn’t matter that it’s Bill I’m trying to help – if it were anyone else and this was the only way I could help them, I would do it.”

Tad chortled. “I,” he shook his head, a fond smile settling over his lips. “I don’t know whether that makes you incredibly brave or astronomically stupid. 

Dipper looked down at Tad’s hands – long, graceful fingers, like Mabel’s. He shook his head, a laugh escaping him as he thought of something Mabel had said once: ‘the key to astute bravery is astronomical stupidity’. “It’s… probably a bit of both, actually.”

Tad laughed again, nodding slowly, that fond smile reaching his eyes and making the purple glow an ethereal lilac. “Then by all means, wish away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so anyone here got the new P!ATD album? is it good? i'm getting it on monday <3
> 
> also,in case you didn't notice, i have aligned dipper with fire and mabel with water. and yes, something is up with mabel, all will be revealed shortly!! i have noticed that her scenes have been few and far between lately, but that's only because i've been focusing on my boys. she'll be back soon enough ;)


	20. How far are you willing to go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT DEAD!!!!!!!!!!! IT'S BEEN MONTHS, I KNOW, I'M SORRY! BUT I'M HERE NOW, AND I'VE MADE SOME HUGE CHANGES TO THE PLOT AND THERE'S A COUPLE THINGS I KNOW YOU'RE GONNA NOTICE BUT HOPEFULLY THIS IS GONNA START GOING IN A DIRECTION I'M HAPPY WITH IN JUST A FEW CHAPTERS!!!!

“I want my sister.” Dipper said, and levelled Tad with an unwavering stare. Dipper hadn’t wanted to get his sister involved – to be the one responsible for dragging her into this madness – but he suspected that they had reached a point where he wouldn’t be able to go on without her.

The stare that Tad shot back was amused. “You have to wish for it,” he said. “Actually say the words. ‘I wish…’”

“I wish my sister was here?”

Tad coughed a laugh. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Could you just go get her?” Dipper snapped. Something about Tad reminded him too much of Bill when they’d first met – he seemed guarded. Like everything he said had been carefully filtered to remove anything that may compromise his deniability. He hoped Tad wouldn’t take as long to crack as Bill did, though – they didn’t have that kind of time.

When Tad only sighed, Dipper bit his lip. “Please?”

Tad quirked an eyebrow, but not a second later was thick purple smoke crawling up his legs.

The smoke barely had time to disperse before it was flooding into the room once again, and this time when it cleared, it was not just Tad standing there.

Mabel’s eyes fell on Dipper immediately, and when she realised that the red covering his body was supposed to be inside of it, something akin to _irritation_ filled those kind, brown eyes. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” She stormed towards Dipper, taking his face between her hands firmly and turning it to the right, then the left. When Dipper hissed in pain, Mabel winced, instantly releasing her brother’s face. “Who did that?” She barked.

Dipper blinked, unused to her commanding tone. “Uh…”

Mabel didn’t wait for him to answer before she whirled on Tad, hands balling into fists at her sides. “Was it you?” She turned her head to look back at Dipper, raising a finger to point at Tad. “Was it him?”

Tad snorted a laugh from his nose, unconcerned by the girl. He kicked one foot over the other, as Dipper had seen Bill do so many times before, and leaned against the wall. “She strikes me as pushy,” the genie said to no one in particular. 

“She is pushy,” Dipper agreed.

Mabel turned her head back to Tad, her eyes narrowed into thin black slits. “I can also be punchy and kicky.”

Dipper laid a hand on his sister’s shoulder, pulling her a step closer to him. “Mabel, relax. He helped me. He’s a friend of Bill’s.” Dipper felt Mabel’s shoulders shift beneath his hand, relaxing. “I’m fine, I promise.”

Mabel frowned at Dipper. “So if he’s on our side and you’re fine, why am I here?" 

Dipper’s face grew serious all of a sudden, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheek. “Bill,” he said.

“Oh, I was wondering when he’d be back,” Mabel said. She perked up all of a sudden, eyes darting around the cramped confines of the room. “Where is he?” 

Tad bit his lip, apprehension slipping into the place of the amusement that had been displayed just a moment before. “That’s what Dipper wanted to speak with you about,” he said. “I’m Tad, by the way.”

Mabel would have smiled, but something about the way the air between them shifted sent a shiver of fear up her spine. Foregoing a response to Tad, she turned to Dipper. “So what's up with Bill?”

Dipper’s face turned an angry shade of red as the images he’d been trying to ignore came crashing into his mind like a tsunami of bad memories and worse nightmares. “He’s still with the man who did this to me,” Dipper said, glancing down at his blood stained clothing. “It’s bad, Mabel.”

“How bad?” It was all she could force herself to say. Dipper wouldn’t meet her eyes, but there was something in the way they darkened that made her blood run cold.

When Dipper showed no inclination to answer, Tad said, “Bad enough that your brother thinks Bill needs saving.” Mabel eyed Tad wearily, her teeth gnawing through the inside of her cheek causing the iron taste of blood to flood her mouth – Bill was strong, she knew that, but then so did Dipper. If Dipper thought Bill needed help then- “Though I wholeheartedly disagree,” Tad went on. “I’ve known Bill since we were children and there’s never been anything he can’t handle.”

Mabel turned to face Tad completely, then, hands on her hips as she looked him dead in the eye. “Has he ever faced this before?”

For the first time since Dipper had met him, Tad faltered. “Well, _no_ -”

“Then your argument is invalid,” she said. Turning back to Dipper, she took her brother’s hand in both of hers. He met her eyes, however hesitantly, and she forced the smallest of smiles, hoping that if anything it would give him confidence in himself – in the both of them. “So what do we do?” 

Dipper shook his head, his gaze never wavering from Mabel’s own. “I have no idea,” he said, and Mabel had never heard him sound so defeated. “That’s why I needed you. I didn’t want you involved in this, but- I can’t do it without you, Mabel.”

Dipper’s eyes fell to the ground, and his chest stuttered with silent cries that he would never allow himself to shed. Mabel squeezed his hand, not expecting him to respond but still wanting him to know that he was not alone in this. “May I suggest storming the place and making it up as we go? That tends to work for us.” Behind them, Tad choked on a scoff, and Mabel turned to him with a cheeky look. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“And what will we do then?” Dipper asked, surprising Mabel when she met his eyes and found them cold, hard and determined. “Are we just going to improvise when Gabriel starts bludgeoning us? Again!” He looked down at himself, at the dried red patches that scratched his raw skin when he moved. “Because surprisingly enough that wasn’t so fun the first time.”

“Don't’ be silly!” Mabel scoffed, poking her brother gently in the shoulder. “We’ll hit him back! Punchy and Slappy will make Grunkle Stan proud!” She brandished her fists, smacking her knuckles together in a kind of solitary fist bump.

“That’s your master plan?” Tad asked. “Punch everything you have a problem with?”

“It’s better than what we came up with,” Dipper said with a shrug, “which was nothing.”

Tad sighed, shaking his head. “But you have to take into consideration that Gabriel is not the only thing you have to worry about out- _oh_.” A sly smile crept onto Tad’s face, a chuckle slipping through his lips as Mabel and Dipper watched with moderate bewilderment. Tad cast his lilac gaze on them, eyes alight with a kind of shrewd amusement that reminded Dipper so much of Bill that he felt a strange twang in his chest. “I think I know what you have to do.”

 

.

.           .

 

Bill’s eyes snapped open, blood clouding his vision as he bolted awake. He brought his hand to his chest, which was emitting the conflicting sensations of a dull ache and a searing burn. “ _Mother fuck_ ,” he hissed, blood bubbling from his lip as he bit down on it, hard. “Shit, that hurts.” Pain flooded his senses, and when he peered down at himself he saw a pool of blackish blood spanning the dark blue of his shirt – Dipper’s shirt, he reminded himself, only adding fuel to the flames.

“And here I thought you enjoyed pain,” Gabriel mused.

Bill rolled his eyes – he was wondering when Gabriel would rear his ugly head again. Even with the blistering pain pulsing through his body his waking moments had been almost too peaceful without the grating sound of Gabriel’s threats. “Have we not established that you can’t keep me in here?” Bill sighed, his head lolling back with exasperation. “Really, you’d think after a while you’d learn.” A few strands of hair slid into his eye, and when he moved to swipe them away he found that he could not – his spinal chord must not have healed properly yet. With an indignant snarl, he blew on the strands, not breaking eye contact with Gabriel as the bloodsoaked strands stuck just above his eyebrow.

“Oh, I have learned,” Gabriel sneered. “I’ve learned lots of things.”

“Don’t steal my lines,” Bill snapped. “It’s tacky.”

“I know that,” Gabriel snarled back. “Like I said, I know lots of things.” Bill tried not to roll his eyes – he failed, miserably. “Including,” Gabriel continued, taking a step forward and trailing a finger along Bill’s jawline. His finger came back bloody, and he licked it off. “Including the one little chink in your armour.”

Bill scoffed. “Is it that if you spend one more second trying to impersonate me I’m going to save you the hassle and just kill myself?”

Gabriel’s manic grin was an honestly appalling replica of the real thing. “I think you know exactly what I know. And if I’m wrong – which I won’t be – we’ll find out very soon. It shouldn’t be too long now before your little tree storms this place to rescue you.”

“I’m the bait?” Bill asked, a lazy smirk crossing his lips as his eyebrow quirked upwards. “I’ve gotta tell you, I’m a little hurt. But as fun as all of this has been, it’s beginning to grow tedious. So I’m gonna get my Pine Tree the hell out of here and we can play this game later, okay?” Bill had gained enough feeling in his hands for him to rub two fingers together, but where the tingling just under the skin and the heaps of blue smoke should be, there was nothing. Frowning at his hands, Bill tried again, and again there came no magic, no smoke. _Why the hell won’t this-?_

Gabriel’s flat laugh drew Bill’s attention from his magicless hands to the other genie’s dark black eyes. “I was wondering when you’d try that,” Gabriel said. Bill was silent, and Gabriel’s resounding chuckle sent a cold shiver up the blond’s spine. “I had a little present imported, just for you.” Gabriel said. “You might have guessed what it is - the Sands of Tartarus ringing any bells?”

“Fuck.” Bill looked down again, focusing not on his hands but on the gold shackles binding them. Like a second skin, the shackles had pours, small enough that only two things could fit through them – magic, and the minute grains of sand found on the beaches of hell. Bill had heard of it – practically everyone had – but he’d never seen it, and he’d certainly never been affected by it. The sand filters through the pours in the shackles, blocking them and effectively destroying the link between the shackles and the lamp. Bill was powerless – and honestly, getting a little tired of being so.

Gabriel laughed, the look that Bill had unwittingly allowed to creep onto his face only egging the ginger genie on. “And when you’re cute little pet turns up, you’ll both be trapped.” Bill’s head snapped up at that, because he was _not_ supposed to know what Dipper was. Gabriel chuckled darkly – the laugh of someone who knows they’ve won. “Yes, I’ve figured out what he is. Naughty of you to keep him a secret, not that it made a scrap of difference. This place is warded against every magical creature on the planet. I assumed he was human and that was how he broke through the wards, but you know what they say about people who assume things.”

Gabriel’s smug smirk never left his face, even as he stepped out of Bill’s line of sight, his hand trailing along the slope of Bill’s shoulders as he moved to stand behind him. “After that,” Gabriel went on, “after I realised that he was far from human, there was only one other thing he could be – one of us. Or, half one of us. And let me tell you,” Gabriel dipped down, his chin almost touching Bill’s shoulder as he spoke, his breath ghosting over Bill’s neck. “I can’t wait to find out how he works.”

He laughed shortly, straightening up and clapping Bill hard on the shoulder. “He’ll be put to death, of course. We can’t have something like him contaminating our bloodlines. His parents will walk to the gallows with him, and – if I can pull some strings – you’ll be going with them, too.”

Bill was silent for a long moment. “That’s what you think is going to happen?” He eventually asked, his voice alight with mirth. He laughed softly through his nose, but no smile touched his lips. “Boy, it’s gonna be fun watching that plan crash and burn. I shouldn’t be telling you this, kid, but people who think like that tend to wind up dead, and if you underestimate that boy, you’re gonna wish you were one of them.”

Gabriel scoffed. “Am I now? And who’s gonna make me? You?”

Bill laughed, his mind turning to Dipper’s sister for a brief second before he shook his head. “No spoilers,” he said.

Gabriel laughed, his eyes scouring Bill’s in a way they had done many times before – in a way that made Bill feel like the punchline to a joke that Gabriel just wasn’t getting. The way Gabriel looked at Bill, it was like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Bill to reveal that all of this had been a clever ruse and of _course_ he would give Gabriel the lamp and _obviously_ he didn’t actually care about the hybrid. When Bill said none of the above, Gabriel’s smile turned into a grimace. “How far are you willing to go for him, Cipher?" 

“How far are _you_ willing to go?” Bill countered. Before Gabriel could answer, Bill held up a finger. “Don’t tell me,” he said, “just think about it. I want you to know that however far you are willing to go, I will go one step farther.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed on Bill as he took a step closer. “And you think that will work?”

Bill shrugged a shoulder. “It might.”

Another step. “And how do you know you’ll survive?”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t, and I don’t care. Because if I die,” Bill’s eyes narrowed on Gabriel, “I’m dragging you down with me.”

 

.

.           .

 

Dipper looked at Tad, giving a curt nod before he stepped out of the room, his sweaty hand clasped tightly by his sister’s. The alarms sounded out at once, the red flashes invading Dipper’s vision for the second time in as many days. He allowed himself only a brief moment of panic before he gave Mabel’s hand a quick and reassuring squeeze. Tad’s plan was sound – they could do this.

Tad stepped out of the room after them, closing the door behind him and turning to the left – the opposite direction to the one Mabel and Dipper would be going in. And where Mabel and Dipper were going… no one in their right mind would dare to enter those rooms.

“You know what you’re doing?” Tad asked, eyeing the teenagers warily. “Because no one has ever survived entering those rooms before. And they were much older and wiser and-”

“Tad,” Mabel interjected. “A ‘good luck’ will do.”

Tad sighed, smiling just a tad (ha!). “Good luck.”

Dipper smiled, however faintly, and pulled on Mabel’s hand, leading her down the corridor. “If you get to him first,” Dipper began to call over his shoulder, then decided against it. “I’ll tell him myself,” he said.

Tad nodded. “You do that.”

With that, Dipper turned his head away from the purple genie and towards their destination. The residential wing of the genie’s lair – headquarters, base, whatever you want to call it – held no resemblance to the clean cut metal and glass prisons, or the dank and stony secret passage he and Bill had stumbled upon. The walls were tall and angled to a point, an odd shade of white that seemed to change colours with the brightness of the room. Beneath his feet was a plush black carpet. And at the end of the hall was a door – triangular and yellow – that led to the rooms he and Mabel would be braving.

“Ready?” Mabel asked as they stepped nearer, ignoring the ways the lights around them flashed as they walked towards something that Tad had assured them would not be at all pretty.

“No,” Dipper answered.

Mabel smiled and squeezed her brother’s hand. “You’ve said that before.”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper asked. “What happened next?” 

Mabel chuckled, her laugh causing their joined hands to sway. “You did it anyway.”

“And they all lived happily ever after?” Dipper asked.

“We’re still working on that part,” Mabel said.

They reached the door, pausing with their toes mere inches from the yellow material. Dipper had no idea what the door was made of, it was unlike anything he’s ever seen before, but it gave off an overwhelming presence that caused his hairs to stand on end.

Exchanging a glance with his sister, Dipper raised his hand to the door, pressing his palm to its surface. It was unlike anything he had ever touched before, barely feeling it against his skin, like he’d pressed his hand against thin air. The only reason he knew he was toughing anything at all was because of the magnetic pull he felt, holding his hand in place. 

Slowly, Mabel brought her hand to the door, too. She placed her fingers next to Dipper’s, their index fingers and thumbs connecting to form the shape of a triangle. The material was strange beneath her hand, seeming to sway languidly, changing temperatures and textures as it pulled on her palm, holding it in place.

Between their fingers, the yellow door began to glow, a small hole opening up and spreading out. It engulfed the entire doorway, leaving only an empty space in its place.

Dipper and Mabel squeezed their connected hands together once more before they stepped into the room.

As Dipper stepped through the door, he was engulfed by inky blackness. The dark space around him was cold and empty, and he was struck with the awareness that so was his hand. “Mabel?” He called out. He could sense nothing in the darkness – see nothing. “ _Mabel_!”

“You won’t find her,” a voice said, and at the same time a small fire lit the impossibly vast space. Dipper turned to the light, but there was no one there – it was just him, alone, in what appeared to be a room full of mirrors. “You can’t do anything.” The voice spat, and Dipper jumped when it was his reflection that spoke.

Far away from him, he heard Mabel call out to him. Dipper’s teeth dug into his cheek, drawing blood, the pain steadying him. When he glanced at the mirror again, it was just that. No talking reflections, no discouraging words. It was just him. “Dipper, _please_!” Mabel’s voice came again.

“I’m coming Mabel!” Dipper called back, and he took off, running through the room. For every mirror he passed, another small fire was set, and for every mirror he passed, there seemed to appear ten more yet to come.

“That’s not quite true though, is it?” That voice came again – not Mabel’s but Dipper’s. The reflection’s. “You’re good at messing everything up.”

Dipper ground his teeth, fighting to ignore the biting words.

“Wendy couldn’t stand you,” the mirror said. “You got clingy, needy, and you drove her away. She ran away with her friends - the ones that used to laugh at you, you remember those, right? They are who she wanted more than you.” 

The voices were all encompassing, yelling from every direction as Dipper ran after his sister’s voice, growing fainter with every yell of his own.

“Mabel left you for Pacifica!” One mirror yelled, its dark eyes swirling with colour to reflect a memory of Pacifica and Mabel dancing together, laughing in a way that Dipper had never seen. The image shifted, to Mabel walking away from him, her hand slipping out of Dipper’s and into Pacifica’s. 

Dipper shook his head, focusing on a point straight ahead. 

“The Stans left you!” Another mirror called out, laughing at him. The reflection in its eyes was of Mabel and Dipper sat together on the roof of the shack, month after month, waiting. They grew, they changed, Dipper stopped waiting altogether, and then it was just Mabel, sat alone under the moon, hoping to see them round that corner but also for her brother to join her. For her brother to regain that hope that had been snatched away from him.

Dipper shook his head again – he shouldn’t have looked. He shut his eyes, ploughing forwards. Mabel had stopped calling out to him, he could only hope he wasn’t too late – for what, he didn’t know.

“And now Bill’s left you, too.” Dipper’s eyes snapped open at that, but he refused to look into the mirror. “What?” His reflection scoffed, a sneer rising to its face. “Do you think you’re rescuing him? Do you think he’d be in any of this mess if it weren’t for you? He’s going to figure out that you’re a waste of space, unworthy of his time, and then he’s going to walk out of your life faster than you can cry and beg and _plead_ for him to stay. Speaking of! _Do you remember that girl Marie?_ ”

At that, Dipper froze. He gulped, and turned stiffly to the mirror, eyes narrowing in on a pair identical to his own. The other mirrors stopped their incessant calls, silencing as if to hear what Dipper would say, see what he would do. 

Dipper’s reflection stared back at him, smirking. “Oh, that’s got your attention, has it?” Dipper grit his teeth, and for a moment the reflection did the same, before breaking out into a sleazy smile once again. “Do you remember how she begged? How she _pleaded_ with you not to go?” It paused, “I do.”

“Shut up,” Dipper – the real Dipper – whispered. Dipper did remember Marie, and he’d tried so hard to forget her. He’d never asked for her forgiveness – couldn’t even have tried. She wouldn’t even look at him; not after what he did. Mabel had tried to convince him that he’d done nothing wrong, but she didn’t know the whole story. He thought that if she knew, she’d leave him too.

“What was that?” The mirror purred. “I could have sworn you told me to-”

“I said **SHUT UP**!” Dipper’s fist slammed into the reflection, and around him, every mirror smashed, falling to the ground and taking the darkness with them.

Dipper bolted up, his head slamming into something hard. “Dipper!” Mabel gasped, her hand pressed tightly to her forehead, where Dipper had smacked her with his own. 

With a shaky gasp, Dipper caught Mabel by the shoulders, pulling her to his chest. He was shaking, soaked with sweat. “Did you see it too?” He asked. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he tried to bury them in his sister’s shirt. 

“See what?” Mabel asked. She pulled back from Dipper, pretending she didn’t notice the wet streaks on his face. “We walked through the door and you _freaked out_ – I had to hold you down to stop you from clawing your own face off.” She gestured at their position, Dipper sprawled on the floor and Mabel perched on top of him. There were red marks on Dipper’s wrists where she’d pinned him down. “What happened?”

Dipper sighed. “Nothing worth mentioning,” he said. “I guess Tad was right about these rooms, though.”

“You wanna turn back?” Mabel asked, biting down on her lip as she eyed Dipper warily. She didn’t want to tell him about the things he’d been yelling – really, really bad things.

Dipper snorted a laugh. “And have gone through all that for nothing? Not a chance. Besides, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Bill here. I don’t care if Tad thinks Bill can take care of himself – he shouldn’t have to.”

Mabel nodded with a smile, hopping to her feet and offering her hand to her brother. Just behind her was another door, identical to the one they had walked through first. She raised her eyebrows at Dipper, a silent question, and he nodded, taking the first step towards the door. Without a word, they raised their hands, formed the triangle and pushed.

Mabel stepped through the door first, her foot landing silently on a slope that slipped away from her as he put her weight down. She fell backwards, the door she’d come through vanishing as she landed on what looked like a mound of sand. Thousands of grains fell away from beneath her, creating a hushed roar as she slid down the dune. Sand flew up and hit her in the face as she fell, the friction on her bare legs burning as it tore away at her skin. 

She slipped to the bottom of the dune, landing roughly on the hard floor. Pain spiked through her shoulder and she gasped, sucking heaps of sand into her mouth. She coughed, rolling over and retching, but the sand in her mouth didn’t move. Sand poured out of her mouth and rolled down her throat, but her mouth was always full. She screamed, unable to breathe as her stomach and lungs were filled with the sand, but no sound could be made.

She rolled onto her back, not sure what she was hoping would happen. Her arms and legs felt heavy, as if the sand had weighed them down too, and when she tried to sit up, she could not.

A tingling sensation crawled up her chest, the same feeling you get when you cross your legs for a long time and no blood can get to your feet. It climbed higher, encasing her shoulders and then her neck and then her face.

Distantly, through the sand that had taken over her ears, she heard the quiet roar of something heavy moving – falling – very quickly. The sand that surrounded her began to move, and she shut her eyes, waiting for the weight of it all to come crashing down on her, but it never did.

“Mabel?” Dipper called, and her eyes snapped open. She sat up with a gasp – she could breathe – and saw her brother running towards her.

“Dipper!” She called out. She had started to cry, she didn’t know when, and the tears didn’t stop falling as her brother fell to his knees beside her, scooping her into a bone-crushing hug. “I couldn’t-” she began to say, just as Dipper asked:

“How did you do that?”

Mabel frowned. “Do what?” 

“ _That_!” Dipper moved away from Mabel, revealing the mountain of sand that had threatened to suffocate and crush her, floating above their heads. The grains whirled around in the air, forming the tumbling clouds of a storm above them. And beneath it, standing in the sandstorms eye, was a door.

“I didn't-” Mabel began, then shook her head, remembering everything she was sure she ‘hadn’t’ done over the past few days, the wave that almost killed Grunkle Ford just the beginning. “Okay. Let’s just get out of here before it falls back down or something.”

“Good plan,” Dipper said. He took Mabel’s hand, hauling her up and dragging her along with him as he ran for the door.

They didn’t pause before stepping through this time, just pushed the door open and ran through.

Dipper squinted when the brightness of this new room hit him, the light making his eyes burn. He clamped a hand over his face, his eyes watering in this new darkness. Colours swam around in his vision, and it was only when he could see normally again that he realised the hand he’d covered his eyes with was the one that should have been holding Mabel. 

“Seriously?” He barked, looking incredulously down at his empty hand. “Does this place have a problem with teamwork or something?”

To Dipper’s side there was a wall, blue and turbulent like a river. Cautiously, Dipper pressed his palm against the wall. It felt like water, and it moved beneath his hand, but when he pressed harder against it, he couldn’t move through. It reminded him of Bill’s cave – of the watery steps that led down to the treasure trove.

“Dipper!” Mabel called, and it was then that Dipper noticed a shadow on the other side of the wall. He had thought it was part of the confinement, but when it moved closer, he could make out the basic shape of his sister.

“Mabel? What are you doing over there?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mabel snapped back. “You weren’t supposed to let go of my hand, buttface!”

“You weren’t supposed to let go of mine!” _Goddamnit!_ Dipper slammed his hand against the wall, not sure what he was expecting but still feeling disappointed when nothing happened. “Ow!”

“Dipper, what did you just do?” Mabel called. “Whatever it was, it did something over here, too!”

“I just hit it?” Dipper was yelling, not sure how loud he was supposed to be speaking. Mabel sounded like she was talking normally, but through the body of water it was impossible to tell. “What did it do?”

“This!” On her own side, Mabel punched the wall. The area around her fist glowed red for a second, and for a brief moment Dipper could see her as she was, rather than as a blurred blob.

“Mabel, if we– can you hear me?”

“Yup!”

“Try doing it together,” he suggested.

“On three?” 

“Okay,” Dipper agreed. “One!”

“Two!”

“ _Three_!” They yelled together, and slammed their open palms into the wall. Red lightning shot out from their hands, pulsing through the water and beating against the walls, causing splintered cracks to split the surface. There was a sound like ice breaking and glass shattering, and the wall liquefied, falling to the ground and sending tiny waves spilling out into the room.

“Boom!” Mabel yelled, jumping into the air and fist-bumping the sky. “Mystery Twins for the win!” She held her hand out for Dipper to high-five, but he left her hanging. 

“Can I give you a handshake instead? That really hurt…”

Mabel laughed, “Wimp.” Ignoring Dipper’s offended pout, she stepped over the line that had been separating them with ease, sliding her arm under Dipper’s and pulling him towards the next door. “How many of these rooms do you think there’ll be?” 

Dipper shrugged and Mabel laughed. She stepped through the door with her brother, breathing out a sigh of relief when she found them both on the other side of it, their arms still linked together. That relief did not last as long as she would have liked, though, as a voice cut through the silence.

“I have to admit,” Gabriel purred. “I’m impressed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if it was bad just remember that i haven't written in a month (1/12th of a year!!!!!) and any semblance of skill i had accumulated is now gone
> 
> also!!!! any kylux shippers over here?? that's where i've been for the past few months - stuck in the trash heap <3


	21. The Fall

"I have to admit,” Gabriel purred, “I’m impressed.”

Dipper’s face drained of colour. Gabriel’s voice sliced through him like a knife, sending a cold shiver up his spine. Mabel glanced from the genie to her brother and back again, a frown on her face as she watched the way Gabriel affected him. Shaking her brother’s arm to draw his attention, she leaned into him slightly, “Who’s that?” She whispered.

“No one nice,” Dipper said back, his tone holding more than a hint of a warning. He didn’t drop his gaze from Gabriel’s, eyeing the genie with a look that Mabel supposed was supposed to be intimidating. She had to admit, for someone as soft as Dipper, it wasn’t bad.

She bit back her concern when she shot back, “I’ll be the judge of that.” She narrowed her eyes on the redhead, inspecting him. He was skinny, so she could probably take him in a physical fight, but something about the unnatural blackness of his eyes and the smirk stretched across his thin lips told her that he probably wasn’t one to fight physically; he had genie written all over him.

“And you brought a friend!” Gabriel laughed, scrutinising Mabel with an amused stare. There was a flash of red behind his eyes, so brief that Mabel thought she’d imagined it. “She’s not bad – for a girl, that is.”

“You’re right,” Mabel whispered to Dipper, curling her lip at the genie. “He’s going down.”

“Oh, I don’t think I am.” Gabriel said. He took a step closer to the two, his smile predatory as he drank in the sight of them. “See, you and the rest of your band of misfits and miscreants seem adamant to jump in and rain on my parade. But I’m not going to let you.”

Behind him, a glass panel was lifted, and mounds of black smoke flowed into the room. Gabriel grinned, red smoke wrapping around his body as he disappeared from the room just seconds before the black smoke reached where he had stood. The black smoke hit the twins in a matter of seconds, and-

Mabel was the first to scream. The smoke surrounded her arm, causing a searing pain that knocked her to her knees and tore a shallow scream from her throat. Fat welts rose up on her arms, blood red and blisteringly hot. She touched one and it burst instantly, spilling dark blood down her arm and on to the ground. The smoke travelled across her stomach, and she felt the welts rise up there, too. She clamped her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look.

As Mabel fell to the floor she pulled Dipper down with her. He couldn’t see what was wrong with her, not at first, but when the smoke hit him the lesions on her arm became visible just a second before they appeared on his own. Dipper gasped, and the smoke dove into his mouth, spilling into his lungs. He clawed at his throat, but the smoke had hit there too, and as his fingers broke the skin at his neck and the blood ran down his shoulders. He could do nothing but howl in pain, doubling over on the ground.

The only thing that either twin could hear over their cries of agony was the resounding laugh of the genie.

 

.

.           .

 

“There’s no need to worry,” Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes. “They won’t be dead for a few more hours, and when they do die it’ll be from blood loss so they won’t even be conscious!” He bit his lip, casting a glance over his shoulders at the agonising image of the twins displayed on a monitor. The hallucinogenic gas wouldn’t hurt them, but the way they clawed at themselves might. “Probably…”

Bill snarled, thrashing against the bindings keeping him pinned to the wall.

“Oh, calm down!” Gabriel reprimanded. “If you think about it, you’ll know that this is good! Better for you to watch him die now than in sixty years, when you’ve actually grown attached, right?”

Bill growled. Hunching his shoulders to lean forwards, he came dangerously close to biting down on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel yelped as he hopped back a step. “Now, there’s no need to be upset,” he began, his voice trembling just slightly. “Just give it an hour – you’ll feel much better then.”

Bill laughed, his mouth stretching into a grotesque grin. “Yes, I will.” He agreed. “A nice, messy murder is just the thing I need to cheer me up.” He thrashed forward again, laughing when Gabriel jumped back with a startled yelp.

“Now, there’s no need to take it out me.” Gabriel said, his hands starting to shake as he backed away from Bill. “I helped you. That boy was holding you back, but now he can’t. Now you can be great again.”

Bill paused for a second. His eyes swallowed the sight of Gabriel, backed into a corner and afraid. “Great? Is that what you want?” Bill laughed. He felt something shifting inside his mind, and when it stopped, the blue triangle in his eye was gone. The blue had spread out, engulfing the black and leaving it in solid colour, a burning hollow of light hidden behind his hair. The other eye was just the same, bright yellow and glowing. Gabriel felt it burning his skin as Bill looked at him. “If it’s great you want, who am I to deny it?”

With a twisting jerk of his shoulders, Bill pulled his wrists free, tearing the Tartarun bonds from the wall with one sharp tug. He laughed as flames rolled down his arms, melting the chains away and leaving solid-black skin in their place. The flames crawled over his shoulder, tearing down past his hips and wrapping around his legs. Every inch of skin on display turned jet-black, and his hair was taken over by a biting shade of white. 

Bill laughed, the sound hollow and cruel, and with it came a wall of fire. The flames wrapped around them, inching closer with every manic beat of Bill’s heart. Gabriel was forced forwards by the flame, stuck between a rock and hard place or, in this instance, Bill and an inferno.

Bill snarled, the skin of his cheeks tearing apart as his mouth stretched into that bloodcurdling grin, lips curling back to reveal pointed teeth and a black, forked tongue. His vacuous laugh never stopped as Gabriel was forced to walk straight towards him.

A wind rose up outside the flame, swirling around the room and creating a tornado of flame around them. Bill’s hair was blown aside by the wind, and when Gabriel saw the other genie’s eyes, his jaw dropped. Outside of their flaming cage, the white plates that formed the chamber walls were torn apart. The thick pieces of metal swirled around them, inching closer with the flames. Shining shards were caught up in the wind and spat into the centre of the storm. Some cut into Gabriel’s skin, biting through his clothing and drawing dark blood from his veins.

As Gabriel drew closer, Bill heard what he had been muttering incessantly since he’d broken free. A constant stream of “oh no this is bad oh no _really_ _bad_ ” sounded out around them, and Bill couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think you’ll find that this is what you wanted,” Bill purred. With a single step he closed the distance between them, snorting a laugh when Gabriel whimpered. Bill’s sharp fingernail traced the outline of Gabriel’s jaw. “You wanted the Bill Cipher that terrorised a nation? Well, here he is!”

Gabriel gulped, and Bill dug his fingernail into Gabriel’s neck, breaking the skin and drawing blood. Bill twisted his finger, smiling when it elicited a cry of pain from the other genie. With a laugh, Bill brought his finger to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking the blood away with a messy slurp. “That’s how it’s done,” he purred, and Gabriel shuddered. Gabriel whispered something, and Bill frowned, leaning closer to the genie. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel squeaked. 

Bill laughed. “Oh no, it’s too little too late, I’m afraid. But well done for trying!” Gabriel leaned back, but Bill caught him by the throat, digging his fingers into the muscle and drawing him closer. Lifting him off the ground, Bill leaned his head to the side, “Where do you think you’re going?” Bill leaned closer to Gabriel, his mouth pressed up against Gabriel’s jaw when he said, “I told you I’m going to have fun with this, but I don’t like it when they run. Don’t run.”

Tears were streaming down Gabriel’s face – pathetic, Bill thought – and Bill made a show of wiping one away, his nail cutting into Gabriel’s cheek as he did so. “Big boys don’t cry,” Bill said, shaking his head. “What do you have to cry about?”

Gabriel whimpered, and Bill ‘tch’ed, shaking his finger in front of the other genie’s face. “Now, I’ll make this nice and easy for you and tell you what I’m going to do, okay? First-”

“ _This is a rescue!_ ” Someone yelled, their voice accompanied by the clatter of a metal door hitting the ground. “Everybody hit the- _oh boy_.” Bill’s head snapped up, his eyes landing on a familiar face.

The hand wrapped around Gabriel’s neck slackened, leaving the redhead to crumple to the ground in a quivering heap. Bill nudged Gabriel out of the way with his foot, his eyes never once leaving the near identical faces standing in the doorway.

“Bill?” Dipper choked out, slowly reaching for his sister’s hand. His voice shook, and it struck Bill to the core that Dipper – _his Pine Tree_ – was afraid of him. “What-?” Bill took a step towards him, and Dipper took a step away, drawing his sister behind his back.

Bill froze where he stood, a feeling like being stabbed through the heart but a thousand times worse shooting through his chest. “Pine Tree,” he said, and for the first time noticed that the voice he spoke with was not his own. It was darker, harder, so cold it seemed incapable of expressing anything but hatred and disgust. Affection with this voice – it was just _wrong_.

“Dipper,” Mabel whispered, her hand holding her brother’s so hard that both of their knuckles turned white. She stepped forwards, despite Dipper’s protests, and stood at his side, her chin lifted as she stared at Bill. The genie realised with a start that they thought he was going to hurt them, and that they would fight him if he tried.

They’d probably win, too.

The power that surrounded them was like nothing Bill had ever seen. Both twins glowed, a white light radiating from their cores, strongest where their hands met. The light around them pulsed, flashes of pink then blue, pink then blue, pink then blue.

Behind Bill’s back, Gabriel was crawling to the wrecked corner of the room, where a second door was located. Bill didn’t care. He watched as Dipper’s eyes followed the genie, doing nothing to stop him go – Dipper thought that Bill was the biggest threat here, Bill realised.

“I won’t hurt you,” Bill said, and his voice sounded softer now, more like his own. Bill glanced down at his hand and found it the same dark black, but with a few patches of its usual shade of brown. He took another step towards the twins, and this time neither of them moved back.

Mabel bit her lip as Bill reached out to them, his palms facing upwards as he tried to convey that he was not a threat. Dipper’s fingers twitched – he wanted to reach out to Bill, but he could accept that when it came to Bill he was never really rational. He conceded that if Mabel took Bill’s hand, so would he.

Mabel didn’t take Bill’s hand.

Bill stepped forwards again, his hands still out, and the light cast around the twins reached out to him. The white glow wrapped around his hand, itching his skin in the same way that his shackles burned when Dipper touched him. As the white light inched its way up his arms, the black sections of his skin fell away, leaving smooth brown skin in its place. The light traipsed over Bill’s shoulders, flowing down his back and reaching across his face. That burning feeling took over his body – not unpleasant but not enjoyable, either. It just… _was_. It felt like hands travelling over him, washing all of that darkness away.

Bill met Dipper’s eyes, and the boy blinked slowly, watching as Bill’s eyes slowly returned to normal. The blue shrank back to a tiny triangle, and the yellow receded to just the iris, a pupil blossoming at its centre.

“Bill,” Mabel breathed, and the genie nodded. 

“Don’t do that again,” Dipper said, and Bill nodded again, agreeing. He wouldn’t – he would never do anything even remotely like that again if it meant that Dipper would never again look at him like. Like he was scared of Bill.

Dipper let go of Mabel’s hand then, breathing a sigh of relief. The light that had connected them receded, slipping back under the twins’ skin. But as the light slid away from Bill’s skin, so did something else. Something gold and shiny that definitely should _not_ have dissolved like a _goddamn bathbomb!_

“Uh…?” Bill began, but his sentence was cut off by a wrench in his gut that him falling to his knees. Magic fizzed beneath his skin, rising up just below the surface like his veins were filling up with liquid fire. Bill’s eyes went wide, his teeth biting down on his lip as his hands began to shake in front of him. The icy blue magic shone through his skin, tearing up his veins in a way that was just _wrong_ , too much of it moving too quickly.

“Bill?” Dipper reached out to take Bill’s hand, and Mabel wrapped her hand around his wrist and yanked it back mere seconds before the blue flame burst out from Bill’s palms. The fire shot straight out, pushing through the ceiling and sending melted clumps of plastic and rock falling to the ground. Dipper and Mabel’s arms rose up to protect their eyes, and Bill staggered back to protect them.

Bill watched as the flames turned green, then yellow, then orange red purple black blue green yellow orange red purple black blue green yellow orange red purple black blue _white_. Sparks shot out from his fingertips, bouncing off the floor and ricocheting around the room. Lightning shot out from his core, striking the walls and ceiling and floor and blackening them, sending a spider’s web of cracks out from beneath Bill’s feet.

Dipper pulled Mabel against him just in time to save her from being hit by a ball of white flame, and a second later she returned the favour when a lightning strike almost zapped Dipper in the head. The cracks that slid across the floor split apart, tearing the ground open, and the twins staggered back to avoid falling down a crack that broke open right where they stood.

Bill stared at his hands, entranced by his wrists. Patterns of white swirled around his skin, dancing around where the shackles should have been – this was why he had the damn things in the first place, and now they were just _gone_. The shackles regulated the magic that streamed from him to the lamp, and without them… well apparently without them, this bullshit starts to happen.

Bill fell back against the floor, white lightning wrapping around his body and lashing out at everything in the near vicinity. The lightning struck at points around his body, forming a perfect circle. Lashings of electricity connected Bill to the circle at ten points, funnelling magic into it and pulling it back out.

Dipper moved to take a step towards him, and Mabel pulled him back again. “Mabel,” Dipper snapped, “he needs help!"

“From what?” Mabel asked. She looked at Bill, her heart clamming up as she watched the genie convulse under the electric currents. His consciousness had slipped away at some point, leaving him a writhing mess in the centre of the floor. “Do you even know what’s wrong with him?”

“No, but-” Mabel raised an eyebrow, and Dipper shook his head, glancing at Bill with determination. “I can’t explain it, I just… know what he needs.” Bill’s arms were splayed out at his sides, his palms open to the ceiling. The flames that had engulfed them had disappeared, and Dipper had an aching need to take Bill’s hands in his own. It was the felling he’d had when he’d woken up in the forest – like his body was on autopilot, his instincts telling his brain what to do. He glanced back at Mabel, and saw in her eyes that she understood – not what Dipper was talking about, but that if he said he could help Bill then he at least needed to try.

Dipper smiled at her, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before he half-ran to Bill’s side. The lightning surrounding Bill shot out at him, and Dipper let it hit him – didn’t even try to dodge it. It didn’t hurt him. He’d seen a light like this before, streaking through Bill’s aura. He’d seen it when Bill had trapped Gideon, seen it when Bill put those stars in the sky. This was the light that always surrounded Bill, only, there was so much more of it now. Bill was full of power – too full; he couldn't contain it. At least, that’s what Dipper hoped this was; because if it was, then Dipper could do something to fix it. 

Dipper fell to his knees at Bill’s side and, before he had the chance to lose his nerve, reached out to take his hand.

The power in Bill’s body rushed into Dipper’s, and his back went ramrod straight as the electrical current ran through him. Dipper’s eyes blew wide, a white light shooting out of them as the magic engulfing Bill flew into his body, too. He was hypercharged, his body filled with more magic than he realistically should have been able to hold. His veins were on fire. Every breath was taken in agony. It was…

Suddenly, the power that was running through him lessened, becoming almost bearable, and as the white haze that had covered his vision cleared, Dipper saw that Mabel had taken Bill’s other hand. 

Between them, Bill’s eyes flew open, looking first at Mabel and then at Dipper. “I can’t control it,” he choked out. His eyebrows were furrowed, concentration straining his muscles so far that they shook.

“Yes you can,” Dipper said. His eyes fell on Bill’s wrists, where light danced under the skin and for a moment Dipper couldn’t believe that he was actually looking at Bill’s wrists. He knew what the shackles did – why it was bad that they were gone. “You know what to do. You just have to emulate them, and-”

“Do you not think that if it were that simple I would have done it already?” Bill snapped. “I don’t-”

“Bill,” Mabel said. “Dipper’s right, you just have to reel it in.” She beamed at the genie, and Bill curled his lip at her, but there was fondness in his eyes. “Concentrate,” she breathed.

Bill closed his eyes, and through this connection both Mabel and Dipper could feel the way the genie pulled back. Bill envisioned a box, ropes spilling haphazardly out of it. Slowly, he picked up a rope and tossed it into the box. One by one he did the same with the others, until he had stuffed all of the magic that was pouring out of him into the wooden confines where they belonged. With a sigh, he closed the lid and sat down on top of it, just for good measure.

Mabel felt the power thrumming through them recede first, then Dipper. They watched as the white light grew dim, disappearing almost as if it had been absorbed through Bill’s skin. It took a second, two seconds, three seconds before Bill could open his eyes. The room surrounding him seemed dark compared to the light that had flooded them just seconds ago.

Frowning, he brought his hand slowly to his face. Where his shackles had been, there were thin black lines, weaving together to form his own shackles. They didn’t bind him to the lamp, but they did give him some semblance of control over his power. A placebo of sorts, he tricked himself into believing that the shackles were still there. But there was still nothing that bound him to the lamp, nor anything that could bind him to a master. By all accounts, he was free. 

“Yikes,” Mabel breathed, the first to speak, and Bill met her gaze with a question in his eyes. “You okay?” She asked.

He nodded. “Are you? Both of you?” Mabel smiled, nodding slowly – her head hurt and she was far too hot to be comfortable. The excess magic thrummed under her skin jittered as she sat still, but other than that, she was fine. Bill turned his gaze slowly to Dipper, his eyes taking in the bloodied shirt he wore and the few new scars lining his arms and face from where Gabriel-

“Gabriel!” Bill leapt to his feet, whirling on the door that Gabriel had crawled through.

“Finally you remember me?” Gabriel’s voice came flooding the room. “Honestly I’m hurt that it took you that long.” His voice sounded artificial, and it was only when his image flickered onto the television screen sunk into the wall that Bill found out why.

“Too scared to face us in person?” Mabel asked.

Gabriel ignored her. “As entertaining as that was,” he said, “I’m afraid it changes nothing. You are all surrounded – every man at my disposal is here, waiting on my command.

“I’ll admit,” he went on, “I underestimated you. But I shalln’t make the mistake again. You can do nothing to us that we have not already done to you. I’m sure you already know that Strange is dead, and your little Princess friend is next. You’ve used every trick you had, and you still haven’t won! Face it – there’s nothing you can do to stop us. The only logical thing left for you to do is surrender before anyone else gets hurt.”

Mabel and Dipper exchanged a glance. Dipper tried to catch Bill’s eye, but the genie’s gaze was unwavering. He stared Gabriel down with a fury that surpassed anything he’d felt towards the redhead before. Tad Strange was his friend. He’d gone through god knows what under Gabriel’s command to keep Bill safe, and-

“It’s ironic, really,” Gabriel continued, and the twins rolled their eyes. _Does this guy ever shut up?_ Mabel thought, and Dipper shook his head, hearing her thoughts load and clear as if they were his own. “I haven’t told you this, but the magic we used to locate you was the very same that brought the two of you together. One wish granted at a ball was all it took to-”

“A ball?” Mabel asked. The insulted look Gabriel shot her for interrupting was almost comical, but she paid it no mind. “Do you mean Pacifica’s?”

Gabriel curled his lip at her. “Yes.” He shook his head, muttering, “How stupid humans are, always so slow on the uptake.”

Mabel stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Bill. “What magic did you do that night, Bill?”

Bill’s eyes widened, almost as if he were offended she would ask that of him. “ _None_!” He squawked, “Except-” He looked at Dipper, understanding dawning in his eyes. “I granted your wish,” he told him.

Mabel bit her lip, “Bill?”

“Shooting Star don’t you dare,” Bill snapped, never taking his eyes off of Dipper. “If you do that-”

“Bill,” she began shakily. “Would you be able to-?”

“I can,” Bill said, interrupting her. “But I won’t.”

“It’s the only way,” Mabel tried to reason. “Tad is gone. Pacifica is in danger. We’re surrounded. We’re at a dead end.” Bill eyes her warily, and the way she looked back at him told her that she didn’t want to do this either. They’d grown so much over the past few weeks. “We can stop all of that from happening,” she continued. “You just have to-”

“No!” The genie snapped, but he knew it was futile – he knew that she was right. Even he, with all his power, couldn’t bring Tad back. And no matter how far they ran, Gabriel would always find them. Dipper eyed the two with confusion, not quite following where they were going with this.

“Please?” Mabel tried, and slowly, hesitantly, Bill nodded. “We’ll do it better this time.” Mabel said. She took a deep breath, slipping her hand into Bill’s and giving it a light squeeze. Looking into the genie’s eyes, she said, “I wish Dipper had never made that wish.”

Dipper gaped at her, his eyes quickly flitting to Bill’s when he found no solace in his sister’s. Mabel shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but Pacifica-”

“And Tad,” Bill chimed in.

Dipper bit his lip. There were probably a million things he should have said, but right now his mind was blank. Bill met Dipper’s gaze, and there were countless apologies in his eyes – so many that Dipper didn’t know which to address first. “It’s okay,” Dipper said, his voice soft. He laid a hand on the genie’s arm, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Just make sure we don't get beat up so badly next time, okay?”

Bill smiled. He’d been holding the magic back, trying to force it down to give him and the twins a few more minutes before everything changed. He let it go when Dipper’s hand took hold of his own, and icy blue flame billowed out around them. Gabriel screamed when Bill pulled the twins closer to his chest, holding them together as the world fell out beneath them.

Everything around them disintegrated into darkness, first the walls and then the floor and then the forest surrounding the base until it was just Bill and the twins. “I’ll see you soon,” Mabel breathed, and with a tiny smile she let go of Bill’s hand, fading away to nothing.

“What she said,” Dipper breathed. He nodded at Bill with a smile, but when he let go of Bill’s hand, the genie’s fingers closed around his wrist before he could fade away.

“Not so fast,” Bill breathed, and he pulled Dipper against him, silencing whatever the boy was going to say next with a kiss. “You better not chicken out later,” Bill said. Dipper rolled his eyes. “If you do, I’ll make up for it,” Bill continued. “I’m not missing out on you because you can’t get your act together.”

Dipper smirked. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Bill grinned, “Oh, I know you will.” Dipper laughed then, and wormed his hand out of Bill’s. The sensation that crawled up Dipper’s body was not what he expected, kind of like pins and needles but really, really hot. His hands fizzled away to nothing in front of his eyes, and the last thing he heard before everything turned to black was Bill, saying, “I love you.”

It hurt Dipper that he wouldn’t remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels like such a homestuck way out of a bad story line, but it had to be done *shrug* THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE FIC, THOUGH, OKAY?? THERE WILL BE MUCH MORE, I JUST HAD TO SCRATCH AWAY A LOAD OF THE PAST STUFF I WROTE AND THIS FELT LIKE THE EASIEST WAY TO DO IT!! i am not pulling an alex hirsch, there will be no unanswered questions, this is not the end
> 
> also, THE SEASON FINALE, AM I RIGHT?????????? HANDS UP, WHO CRIED? *raises hand*


	22. Do-Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was off the grid for _another_ month and i am so sorry (again) but I PROMISE I'm gonna write lots and lots before I have to go on hiatus for exams  <3 you can count on me!!

Bill sat on the balcony, his swinging legs tapping a beat against the stone pillars he was perched upon. Beneath his feet the nobles of the kingdom danced, and Mabel and Pacifica were hidden in a dark corner somewhere sharing their first kiss.

The sun was setting just ahead, bright orange and purple hues scattering across the sky casting odd lights down on the dancers in the courtyard. One particular dancer caught Bill’s eye, a face he recognised from the genie base, but he couldn’t place their name.

A was a metallic clang drew Bill’s eye to where a servant had dropped a bowl, and Bill snorted when he saw a figure he recognised instantly as Dipper running to her recue. He helped her to her feet before picking up the bowl, handing it to her with a kind smile. She smiled back, and knots formed in Bill’s stomach as fear for Dipper’s safety clawed at his throat, until he remembered that Dipper was safe – Bill had brought them all back here to _keep_ Dipper safe. As if he’d felt Bill watching, or more likely heard him thinking – Bill was always forgetting about that pesky mind reading thing – Dipper turned to look at him, an easy smile crossing his face when his eyes met the genie’s.

Bill smiled back, but Dipper missed it as his gaze landed on something in Bill’s blind spot and he headed towards it, without sparing a second glance at the genie above.

With a sigh, Bill figured it was probably time for him to head to the place where he’d stashed Gideon’s lamp. He swung his legs over the balcony, crossing the marble floor with a skip in his step. If his memory served – and it did – everything he had planned for the evening was perfectly timed, down to the second.

He traced the wooden banister as he swept down the stairs, grinding to a halt when he saw Dipper standing at the foot of the stairs. Dipper wasn’t due on the balcony for another ten minutes – with a smile, Bill realised that Dipper must have spent that time down here, working up the courage to ask for his wish. Bill shook his head – only Dipper Pines would need a moment of courage to ask for a moment of courage. The kid needed to let loose – something Bill could arrange. 

“Pine Tree!” He called out, jumping the last few steps and landing flawlessly at Dipper’s side.

“Bill?” Dipper looked startled, and Bill would have commented on it had he not been distracted by the boy’s hair. He certainly didn’t remember _that_ from the first time this night happened, but he wished he did because _damn_. Dipper’s hair had been swept back off his face, just one curl hanging down over his forehead and falling into the dip of his birthmark. Pushed back like that, the sharp line of his jaw was visible, angular shadows cutting his cheeks in half and _damn_ did Bill wish he’d found that sooner because it was glorious.

“What happened to your hair?” Bill asked, showing none of his admiration for Mabel - Because really, who else would have done this to him? - as he raised his hand to bush his fingers through it. Bill frowned when he found that he couldn’t – the damn stuff was solid. Wincing because that probably hurt a whole hell of a lot, Bill asked, “What did Mabel put in there?”

“Hairspray. Conditioner. Glue, probably.” Dipper deadpanned.

“Aw,” Bill pouted. “You look good.”

Dipper snorted a laugh. “So I’ve been told.”

Bill blinked at the boy – oh god, he’s still seventeen. It took Bill less than two seconds to realise that he didn’t care. Touching the underneath of Dipper’s chin, Bill forced the boy to look at him. “That’s a scary face,” Bill mused. “What’s wrong?”

Dipper shook his head, “Nothing.” Dipper looked down at the floor for a second before raising his eyes back to Bill’s, and the way that they stared up at him had the genie feeling like a grade-A idiot for not realising Dipper’s feelings for him sooner. The kid was an open book.

Bill’s hands slid down to pull on Dipper’s lapels, yanking him closer with a contemplative hum. “I think you’re lying,” he said.

Dipper snorted, and Bill almost smiled at the way the brunet was trying to hide his blush by scrunching his nose up in mock disgust. “I think you’re an idiot.”

Bill frowned. He tapped Dipper’s forehead lightly, smiling when Dipper’s eyes darted upwards, as if he could see what Bill was doing. “I think,” Bill began, switching from tapping Dipper’s head to smoothing his thumb over the lines of his birthmark, careful not to dislodge that lonely curl. “You’re trying so hard to live up to these stars that you can’t see that you’re already the sun.” His hand trailed downwards, his fingers ghosting over Dipper’s jaw.

The boy shivered slightly, a blush rising to his cheeks, and as his eyes fell on Bill’s lips he shoved the genie away from him. He turned his head to the side, masking the way his throat had dried up with a laugh. He didn’t look at the genie when he said, “You’re acting weird.”

Bill grinned. “Thank you.”

Dipper shook his head. “ _Why_ are you acting weird?”

Bill caught hold of Dipper’s tie, tugging him against his chest once again. “Because I love you,” Bill said. He wrapped his arms around Dipper’s shoulders, swinging them from side to side in a mockery of the dance going on just outside. 

Bill felt Dipper glare up at him.

“Okay, you got me,” Bill said. He stopped swaying, taking Dipper by the shoulders and pushing him just far enough away that they could make eye contact. Bill winked, “I’m up to something.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow, “Like what?”

“Well, now,” Bill began, stepping closer to Dipper, “telling you would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?” Dipper gave Bill a look, and the genie rolled his eyes as he relented. “I probably shouldn’t be giving it away so soon, but imagine the most evil, dastardly, _dangerous_ plan you can possibly think of…” 

Dipper leaned in a little, a warning in his eyes. “Yes?”

Bill smiled, prodding Dipper’s nose. “And invert it.”

Dipper’s nose scrunched up in a way that was so cute Bill wanted to see it again. Immediately. Bill reached out to tap his nose again, but Dipper swept his hand out of the way, frowning. “So you’re up to something good?”

Bill smiled, leaning in to Dipper so their noses were mere inches apart. “Precisely.”

Dipper frowned, angling his head to the side. He was so close to the genie that Bill could feel his hot breath ghosting over his lips, and he had to force himself not to close that gap. It had been so long since Bill had held Dipper in his arms, but for Dipper the first time had yet to come, and it was going to be perfect – Bill was going to make sure of it.

Dipper licked his lips, eyes flitting between Bill’s eyes and his lips. The half-human’s voice was little more than a whisper when he said, “Maybe I shouldn’t be interrupting you then.”

Bill smirked, his eyes locked on to Dipper’s mouth. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Dipper’s eyes followed Bill’s, and he gulped. “Come see me when you’re done?” 

“Balcony?”

Dipper nodded slightly. “Five minutes.”

Bill smiled. “Don’t be late.”

Dipper’s eyes dropped down to Bill’s lips again, and this time they didn’t come back up. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before he spoke again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bill smiled, and because he was nothing if not a tease, he walked away, leaving Dipper to watch his hips sway as he went. Once he’d rounded the corner, though, Bill let out a delighted squeal. He’d only been back here for a few minutes and it was already going so much better than it had the first time around.

And he’d managed to keep everything important right on track. Everything was as it was - except for himself, that is. When that time vortex thing had closed, Bill was the same as he had been before Mabel had made her final wish - a complete wreck with a power imbalance and a ruined shirt. He was quick to dart into a deserted storage room and fix that up, sending his borrowed shirt back to his lamp because he didn’t have the heart to throw it away.

When Bill reached the small chest in which he’d hidden Gideon’s lamp, he grew his nail out a few inches, jammed it into the lock and tore it off – priceless antique be damned. He pulled Gideon’s lamp out of the chest, and with a glance to the left and right to make sure no one was watching him, tucked it into his jacket pocket.

To say he returned to where Dipper waited for him slowly and with no excitement whatsoever would be a bare faced lie – he ran back so quickly he barely had enough time to slow himself down and calm his breaths before he collided with the door that stood between them.

Bill ground to a halt when his eyes fell on Dipper descending the stairs. His hair was dishevelled, more curls falling into his eyes than before. As Bill watched him, Dipper ran a hand through his hair, and another few curls fell loose. Bill cleared his throat, and when Dipper’s eyes fell on the genie, he smiled. “I was just coming down to look for you,” Dipper said.

Bill smiled. “Well, here I am! What were your other two wishes?”

Dipper stiffened at that word – wish – and he descended the last few steps in relative silence, the only sound between them being the tap of Dipper’s shoes against the granite. Dipper smiled – or grimaced, Bill couldn’t tell – at the floor, his hand nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he closed most of the distance between them. “Actually, um…”

“I know,” Bill said. Dipper frowned, a question dying on his lips as Bill slipped his hands over Dipper’s hips. The boy’s mind went blank as all the blood in his body ran to his cheeks, lighting them up like the town centre at Christmas. Dipper looked at Bill with a question in his eyes, but before he could voice it, Bill kicked the back of Dipper’s knee, catching him before he could hit the floor and swallowing Dipper’s gasp with a kiss.

Bill was practiced in the art of giving Dipper what he liked, and when he leaned back, Dipper’s eyes were wide. “Uh…” he said eloquently, and Bill grinned.

Glancing at the clock on the wall in front of them, Bill cast a worried glance at the stairs to the balcony. “I’ll be right back,” the genie said, before he hauled Dipper upright, giving the boy just enough time to regain his balance before he hurtled his way up the staircase. 

Out on the balcony, Bill set Gideon’s lamp down on the ground. He could feel Gabriel’s eyes on his back, burning into him as he backed slowly away from the lamp, feigning fear. If all went according to plan, Gabriel would snap that lamp up and remove Gideon’s consciousness without even letting the munchkin out. Gideon’s lamp was nowhere near as strong as Bill’s, but it was still far more powerful than any of the other genies’. And hopefully just powerful enough to pull the wool over Gabriel’s eyes…

Bill practically ran down the stairs, jumping the last few feet to Dipper and shoving his hand against the boy’s chest. Dipper stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall, and Bill didn’t get the chance to explain his absence before Dipper’s fingers were dipping under his tie and pulling him in.

“You want to get out of here?” Bill asked when he came up for breath, remembering Dipper’s line from the first time they did this.

“My sentiments exactly,” Dipper breathed, and Bill felt a swell of pride at the way Dipper gasped from lack of breath, his cheeks bright red as he looked up at the genie. Bill smiled, and slid his finger’s into Dipper’s belt loops, pulling the younger man’s hips flush against his own. Dipper crashed against Bill’s chest, his arms winding around the genie’s neck just seconds before the ever-useful blue smoke wound its way around the pair.

.

.           .

 

Gabriel stormed through the halls of the old house - the one that was rumoured amongst the townsfolk to have been abandoned since before the great collapse. He burst through the first door he encountered without waiting for the guards to open it for him, his black eyes gleaming dangerously.

When he came to the second door, he stopped. He placed a pale hand against the wooden door, ignoring the carved swirls in the wood as they lit up gold, far more concerned with the black object weighing down his other hand. The golden etchings of the door extended from Gabriel’s hand to the hundreds of locks joining the seams, setting them alight and casting a golden glow over the dark room.

With a cacophony of clicks that echoed through the house, the door swung open. Gabriel stormed through it with a scowl on his face, ignoring the salutes from his subordinates as he made his way to the centre of the room. All eyes were on him, or more accurately, at the object balanced on his palm. Gabriel cleared his throat, casting his eyes around the room. “We’ve found him.”

The room was silent, all eyes on Gabriel as he placed the lamp steadily on a stone podium. “Cipher,” Gabriel hissed, ignoring the few genies that gasped as he continued, “this lamp is swathed in his magic.”

Tad bit down on his tongue, eyeing the black lamp that exuded a power that _did not_ belong to Bill Cipher. He gulped, the tension in the room bringing beads of sweat to his brow. “If I may,” he began, hiding his concern as he stepped out from the crowd and closer to Gabriel, “how do you know it’s his?”

Gabriel placed a hand over the lid of the lamp, his fingers caressing it possessively. “Who else’s could it be? I have held it in my hand, felt its power. It is far too strong to belong to anyone but him.”

Tad hummed in agreement, hoping that his amusement did not show on his face when Gabriel smiled smugly at the genies surrounding them. “What will you do with him?” Tad asked.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, his eyes holding a dark mirth as they fell on Tad. “Are you worried for him?” Gabriel asked. “You shouldn’t be. Extracting him from the lamp should be quite painful, but it will be quick.”

Tad visibly flinched, his gaze falling on the lamp. He had no idea who was in there, but there was no doubt in his mind that they didn’t deserve what Gabriel would do to them – no one did. “Will you take him out?” Tad asked. “Before you-?" 

“Why?” Gabriel interrupted, a dangerous curiosity lacing his words. He took a step closer to Tad, lips quirking up when the crowd took a frightened step back. Tad didn’t waver. “Do you wish to see him? I have been told that you and Cipher were quite… close.”

“No, I-” Tad faltered, his again falling to the lamp, this time so that he wouldn’t have to expose whatever flashed through his eyes to Gabriel. “I knew his brother.”

“Ah, Cipher’s twin,” Gabriel mused. “So you wish to spare yourself the anguish of seeing a familiar face die in agony?”

Tad grit his teeth. He returned his gaze to Gabriel, meeting his eyes with a look he hoped held some semblance of integrity. “I don’t want to see him.”

Gabriel smiled, his eyebrow twitching upwards. “Oh? Well, since I’m feeling generous today, I might just consider-”

A crash sounded out beside them, cutting off the rest of Gabriel’s sentence. Both genies looked to the podium where the lamp sat, their mouths popping open into tiny ‘o’s when their eyes landed on the empty space. The lamp lay on the floor, black smoke billowing out of it’s top and spreading across the floor. 

The cloud pooled messily on the ground, and as it expanded the light sound of someone coughing permeated the air. “What the-?” Came a confused voice from within the shroud of smoke. Gabriel waved a hand over the stormy cloud, clearing it away.

Wisps of black parted to reveal a man, slumped over against the podium. His eyes – hollow and black but for the crackling lines of red lightning streaking through them – fell on the two genies closest to him.

“Get out,” Gabriel breathed. Every genie in the room was still; frozen in place as they stared at this man, with a power so potent each and every one of them could feel it in their bones. “Everyone! Out!” Gabriel whirled on the crowd, and as his stare burned into them they scrambled to pour through the door. Tad had taken only one step in pursuit when a hand closed around his arm. “Not you,” Gabriel said. 

Slowly, the two genies turned back to the one on the ground. When neither Tad nor Gabriel said anything, the shortest, his cheeks flushed with fury, demanded, “Where am I?”

Gabriel frowned, eyebrows showing his confusion as he nudged Tad with his elbow. “Was he always southern?”

“Huh?” Tad frowned at the man on the floor a moment longer before turning his attention to Gabriel. “Oh, yeah! Always.” He nodded quickly, meeting Gabriel’s stare with eyes that he hoped were not screaming ‘liar liar liar lair’.

Gabriel nodded along, his eyes narrowing on the man on the ground sceptically. “I imagined him taller.”

The man on the ground snarled at them, drawing his legs to his chest as he scowled. “Who are you people?” He barked, eyeing them with a sneer. “I demand you-”

“And less annoying,” Gabriel tacked on. 

The man on the floor spluttered, clearly affronted as his jaw went slack and his eyes grew wide. “This- this is an outrage! I won’t allow it!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, focusing his angry gaze on the source of his impending migraine. “Can it, Cipher!”

The man on the floor’s eyes flew even wider, and the lightning that streaked through them flashed bright and dangerous. “Cipher?” He barked. “Where?” He scrambled backwards until he could go no further, his back pressed flush against the podium his lamp had been set atop just minutes before. “When I get a hold of that dang-”

“Silence!” Gabriel yelled, his tone the same as a petulant child who couldn’t get someone to do as he pleased. “I know who you are, Bill Cipher!”

The man on the floor curled his lip, eyeing the man looming above him no longer as a threat but as a complete pain in his ass. “I’m not Bill Cipher, you bumbling idiot!” If Tad had not been so concerned for the actual Bill Cipher, he would have laughed at that. The man on the floor pointed a fat finger at Gabriel, “But if you know where he is, you’d better-”

Gabriel turned away from the pointed finger with a shake of his head. He raised an eyebrow at Tad. “Are you sure that this is Cipher?” He asked, his voice like a thistle coated in honey.

“Uhh…” Tad frowned, leaning to the side to peer at the newest genie over Gabriel’s shoulder. “It’s been so long,” he admitted.

“ _Strange_ ,” Gabriel pressed.

Tad bit down on his lip, “And he could have had some work done?”

“ _Tad_!”

“ _No_ , Gabriel.” Tad relented. “I’m not sure.”

Gabriel sighed, turning his gaze back to the – very irritated, by the looks of him – man on the ground. “If he’s not Cipher, then who is he?”

The man on the ground grit his teeth, the barest hint of an agitated growl slipping from his lips. Slowly, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off as he looked to the two genies with as much dignity as he could muster. “My name,” he said, “is Gideon Gleeful. And if one of you doesn’t tell me what’s going on _right now_ , I will make both of you regret it.”

 

.

.           .

 

Bill pulled out of Dipper with a contented sigh. Flopping down on his side of the bed, he worked an arm under Dipper’s back, pulling him flush against his side. Dipper let his eyes flutter closed, his head resting on Bill’s shoulder and his legs wrapped around one of Bill’s, leeching the warmth from the genie’s body as a satisfied sigh escaped his lips. Bill’s fingers carded through Dipper’s hair, and Dipper had found a dimple towards the back of Bill’s hip that he just couldn’t leave alone. This was all so new to him, but at the same time, it wasn’t. He knew the curve of Bill’s lips, the touch of his hand pressed to his back, the feeling of eyelashes brushing his cheek.

Dipper opened his eyes and tilted his head to look at Bill, finding the genie staring down at him. Dipper raised an eyebrow, and a smile stretched across Bill’s face. “I told you going to that party would pay off.”

Dipper hummed in agreement. “You planned all that?”

“No,” Bill lied. “But I can’t say I wasn’t inspired. 

Dipper looked down at his hand, resting on Bill’s chest. With a coy smile, he looked back up to Bill through thick black lashes. “Anything else you inspired to do?”

“ _As a matter of fact_ ,” Bill took his hand away from Dipper’s hair for a moment, waving his fingers in the direction of the bedroom door. There was a heavy click as the deadbolt slid shut, and Bill smiled, triumphant. “To keep stray Mabels out,” he explained, remembering the look of mortification on the boy’s face the last time he’d forgotten to do that. “Lest we be interrupted.”

Dipper breathed a laugh, burying his smile against Bill’s shoulder. “Bill, we can’t possibly stay in bed all day.”

Bill’s lips twitched to the side, a glimmer of mischief bleeding into his eyes. “Wanna bet?” With a grin, the genie rolled to the side, laughing when the brunet squeaked as Bill pinned him to the bed. He pressed his lips to the juncture of Dipper’s shoulder and neck, humming when the boy shivered under his touch. Bill worked his was along Dipper’s clavicle, peppering the skin with kisses and soft nips, until his tongue met something gross. Grimacing, Bill pulled away, his tongue sticking out. The taste of Dipper’s shirt was swiftly forgotten, however, as Dipper laughed at him. With an indignant huff, Bill wiped his mouth on his arm then tapped the white fabric with a glowing blue finger and watched it disappear.

Dipper snorted another laugh, which was not fair and should not have been that much of a turn on – or any kind of turn on, for that matter. He raised an eyebrow at Bill, “Did you just magic away my shirt?”

Bill pouted. “It was in the way.”

Dipper looked like he was going to laugh at him again, so before he could Bill returned his lips to Dipper’s skin. The sound Dipper made stripped away what was left of Bill’s restraint, and he scraped his teeth across Dipper’s collarbone as he made his way down, down… 

Dipper stilled, reaching down to catch Bill under the chin and tug him back up. Bill looked startled, tilting his head to the side as he awaited an explanation. Dipper bit his lip. “If we’re going to go for round-” he paused. He’d lost count of what round it was… “I’m going to need some things.” Bill pouted, and Dipper shook his head with a laugh. “I’ll be five minutes.”

Bill flopped to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can have four.”

Dipper grinned, leaning over to kiss Bill quickly on the lips before bouncing off the bed and stepping swiftly to the door. He closed his bedroom door silently behind him, and Bill barely waited two seconds before he leapt out of bed and ran for the dresser, where he knew Dipper kept a small mirror. Something was wrong, he could feel it, and he severely hoped it wasn’t-

Casting a simple light spell, he held the mirror in front of his face and checked his eyes. The one was still gold, and the other still held the tiny blue triangle. He told himself that it was his imagination that made the blue light appear dimmer – that there was nothing wrong and it was just paranoia. That feeling of impending doom that had engulfed him for so many days with Gabriel still lingering in his gut, making him feel _off_ when there was nothing at all wrong.

And then he saw his hair.

The tips of those blond curls had turned a dark, dark brown. Bill caught an end between his fingers, turning it to the light in the hopes that it was just a trick of the shadows, “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can't you just let them be happy _for one chapter_?" I hear you ask. The answer is no. No i cannot.
> 
> also, it may be a while before i can publish a new chapter because i lost the book where i literally kept everything for this fic. notes, plot, planned dialogue. it's all gone... but as soon as a find it i'll be right back, promise xx


	23. Meeting Tad... again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys!!!!! What's it been? Ten years? Twenty?? WHO KNOWS!!!
> 
> I've been off for exams for bloody AGES but I don't have any more until this time next year so hopefully this MONSTER of a fic will be done soon :DD anyway, here goes...

Dipper was awoken with a kiss pressed just above his eyebrow, then another on his cheek, and one more against his chin. His eyes blinked open blearily, and the first thing he saw was Bill, hovering over him with half a smile. Bill pressed a kiss to the corner of Dipper’s mouth. “Morning beautiful.”

Dipper squinted to see through the dark. He said, “Bill, it’s not even light out yet.” The one lamp that hadn’t run out of oil as they had slept burned from the bedside table, casting a small glow around Dipper’s bedroom. The dim orange light caught in Bill’s eyelashes and set them alight with golden flame.

Bill smiled softly, his lips moving against Dipper’s shoulder. “So?”

“So,” Dipper whined, rolling to the side and burying his face in a pile of pillows, “ _go away_.” Sleep was already tugging his eyes closed, pulling him back to his dreams. And as enticing as Bill’s hand running up and down his thigh was, sleep sounded better. 

The autumn had put up a fight, but slowly it was losing the battle to the ensuing winter. The air outside of Dipper’s blanket was frigid, and Dipper was quick to pull the warm quilt back up to his nose. Usually, he would have taken to sleeping in several layers of sweaters by this time of year, but with Bill to keep him warm he managed to get by with just a t-shirt and pants.

Bill’s hand on the back of Dipper’s thigh moved up, and with a yelp, Dipper reached around and swatted the genie’s hand away.

Bill stuck his lip out in a pout. 

“Don’t make that face at me,” Dipper said, his voice muffled by the cushions he had taken captive.

Behind him, he sensed Bill smile. “What face?”

“The one that makes me want to stuff you back into your lamp,” Dipper said.

Bill breathed a laugh. “That’s not a real face. You wouldn’t stick me in a lamp – you love me!” He flopped down on Dipper’s back then, and wrapped his arms around Dipper’s waist. Bill nuzzled his face into the valley of Dipper’s shoulder blades, breathing warm air against the chill of his skin.

Dipper sighed, the muscles of his back relaxing under Bill’s hands. “That’s nice,” he said. Bill smiled. “It’s good to know you’re good for something, at least.” 

Bill squawked, pulling away from Dipper. “What?”

Dipper shrugged. “You’re an effective space heater,” he said. He held an arm up for Bill to settle under. “Now come back here, I’m cold.” Dipper pressed his cold feet against Bill’s legs, and the genie jerked away.

“Is that all I am to you?” Bill cried. “Something warm for you to keep hold of as you sleep?”

Shifting on to his side, Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s not _all_ ,” he relented. “You’re also a huge pain in the ass.” 

Bill whimpered. He threw himself back on the bed and tossed an arm melodramatically over his eyes. “You break my heart, Pine Tree.”

“I broke your heart by inviting you to cuddle?” Dipper asked. He poked Bill in the ribs. With a sigh, Bill shuffled closer to Dipper’s side, wrapping one arm around Dipper’s waist and the other around his hips. “Thank you,” Dipper said. Bill grinned, and squeezed tighter, eliciting a choked wheeze from Dipper’s throat.

“Getting a little hard to breathe over here,” Dipper said.

“Don’t care,” Bill answered, tightening his hold. “Broke my heart.”

Dipper coughed. “So you’re going to break my lungs?”

Bill nodded, but when Dipper’s breathing continued to sound strained, he relented and rolled to the side. Dipper gasped a breath, and Bill shimmied further up the bed. “There’s no need to be so melodramatic,” Bill said. 

“ _I couldn’t breathe_ ,” Dipper said.

Bill shrugged. “You would have been fine.”

Dipper turned his head to glare at Bill, but found that he couldn’t keep a straight face. With a dizzy grin, Dipper closed the distance between them and pressed a kiss to the tip of Bill’s nose. “Go downstairs,” he said, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Bill smiled, and fought his way out from under the blankets. He pointed at Dipper. “Don’t keep me waiting,” he said, still beaming at Dipper as he backed out through the door.

Dipper sat in his bed, counting the steps that Bill took as he skipped down the stairs. He listened for the genie to go into the kitchen, and when one of the Stans yelled and a frying pan clattered to the ground, he figured that was probably it.

With a little smile that he tried to bite away, Dipper rolled out of bed and crept into the bathroom. There, he splashed some water on his face and organised his bedhead into something Mabel would have called ‘artistically dishevelled’. He imagined Bill would come up with a far more voyeuristic name for the look – ‘accidentally fuckable’, or something along those lines.

Downstairs, Bill was grinning at Stan. “I need to have double breakfast today,” he said. “Because I didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

Stan snorted, turning away from the genie to prod at whatever was in the frying pan with the edge of a spatula. “I noticed,” he said, his voice more like gravel than usual, this early in the morning. “You were too busy _defiling_ my nephew.”

Bill snorted, and the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk. “Heard that, did you?”

“Until we realised you wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon and made a break for it,” the older – but technically younger – man said. He glanced back at Bill over his shoulder, and shuddered. “There a some things a man should never have to hear.”

Bill laughed under his breath. “I knew I forgot something,” he said. He had remembered to lock the door, but forgot about soundproofing. He wondered if another time jump to fix that would be pushing it. He smirked as he reached for a box of cereal. “Pine Tree’s gonna kill me.” 

“Why?” Dipper asked, stepping into the room. He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, blinking in the sudden brightness – Dipper’s bedroom had only been dark because Bill had decided so. Dipper ran his hand over the expanse of Bill’s shoulders. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Bill said, a little too quickly, but if Dipper noticed he didn’t show it. Bill pulled the chair at his side out, and Dipper flopped into it. Bill snorted, “Graceful.” 

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Morning Grunkle-” 

“No!” Stan’s stance was rigid, and he made no attempt to turn around and face his nephew. “I am never making eye contact with you again,” he said. “I can’t look at you without… _images_.”

Dipper frowned, turning to Bill with a question in his eyes. “What’s he-?”

“He heard us,” Bill said, grinning. “Yesterday. And, presumably the night before.”

Heat rushed to Dipper’s face. He buried his burning head in his hands. “ _Oh my god_.”

“ _Nope_!” Stan whirled on his nephew, his eyes clamped shut with his spatula pointed at Dipper’s face. “There will be none of that. Ever again.” Dipper groaned, and Stan cringed. “Or that!”

Dipper looked up at Stan through his eyelashes. “I hate you.”

“Hey,” Stan snapped, pointing his spatula a few feet to Dipper’s right. “Say that all you like kid, just remember whose cereal you’re eating.” He waved his spatula in the general vicinity of Dipper’s bowl, before turning around and attending to the frying pan, which was starting to smoke and fill the small kitchen area with a blackish smog.

Dipper frowned at his bowl, lifting a piece of cereal between his forefinger and thumb to his face to inspect it. “Whose cereal _am_ I eating,” he asked.

“Mine,” Bill said. He hooked a finger over the rim of the bowl and slid it across the table. “I like it ‘cause it has tiny pine trees in it.”

Dipper looked up at Bill, eyebrows raised, but they fell back down when he noticed the shade of Bill’s hair. “What happened to that?” He asked, pulling on the browning end of a ringlet.

Bill caught the piece of hair between two fingers, turning it up to look at it. The brown had spread almost an inch higher overnight, and Bill had a strange feeling that the colour change was connected to the dull pain he felt behind his eye. “I’m just trying something new,” he said to Dipper, smiling as he let the hair fall back into place.

“Oh,” Dipper nodded. He reached out and pulled a curl straight, smiling slightly when it bounced back into a tiny spiral. “It looks nice.”

Bill smirked, leaning so close to Dipper that the boy could see the tiny black flecks in his golden eye. “ _So do you_ ,” he purred.

“NO!” 

Stan grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be an egg, and lobbed it at the genie. The egg hit Bill right in the centre of his forehead, and yellowish gloop slid down the side of his face. 

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper cried, shooting an incredulous look at his uncle.

The older man smiled. “My ex wife still-”

“No!” Dipper caught hold of Bill’s arm and pulled him up from the chair. The genie, who hadn’t even stopped eating his cereal when he got hit, whined as he was pulled away from his bowl. “You can finish it once we wash this out,” Dipper said, still dragging Bill towards the stairs.

Cereal forgotten, Bill turned a suggestive smirk on Dipper. “You’re gonna help me wash it out?” He asked. He wiggled his eyebrows, and though Stan couldn’t see it, something in the tone of Bill’s voice made Stan drop his face into the palm of his hand.

Dipper and Bill ran up the stairs, giggling all the way. 

“ _Animals_!” Stan yelled after their retreating backs.

They didn’t acknowledge him.

.

.           .

 

When Mabel woke up, she couldn’t move. She had panicked for all of two seconds before she realised that her restraints where the arms and legs of a princess, and the thing tickling her face was actually a lock of Pacifica’s hair.

The drapes hadn’t been pulled over Pacifica’s balcony window the night before, so bright white light flooded the room. A warm breeze blew in through the open window, and sunlight spilled in and heated Mabel’s skin. She sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut as she basked in the warmth of it all.

Pacifica shifted against Mabel’s side, mumbling in her sleep. Her arms around Mabel’s waist tightened, and the leg slung across Mabel’s waist inched higher as she moved closer. And when Pacifica sighed against Mabel’s neck, and Mabel felt lips slide against her skin, she couldn’t help but release a tiny squeal.

Mabel stopped herself almost as soon as she started, but when she glanced down, Pacifica’s eyes were fluttering open. Her eyebrows drew towards the centre as she looked around her. “Mabel? Why are you-?”

Mabel was smiling, and she pressed a quick kiss to Pacifica’s lips, effectively cutting her off. “Morning.”

Pacifica sighed against Mabel’s mouth. “Good morning to you, too,” she said. 

Pacifica began to withdraw her arms from Mabel’s waist, but Mabel was quick to catch hold of her retreating elbow and pull the princess back against her. Blonde hair streaked over Mabel’s face, tickling her nose, and she blew it away absently. “I love you,” Mabel said. 

“I know,” Pacifica said back, and Mabel could feel the vibrations of the princess’ voice against her throat. Pacifica’s fingers traced he outline of Mabel’s shoulders. “I think you’ve told me a hundred times already.”

“And I’m going to keep telling you,” Mabel said. “Until it isn’t true.”

“Oh, so our love will be a fleeting one?” Pacifica asked. She leaned away from Mabel and raised an eyebrow, a half smile creeping on to her face.

Mabel shook her head. “Not if I can help it.” 

Pacifica beamed. “I love you,” she said. “I love you here,” and kissed Mabel’s forehead, “and here,” a kiss to her nose, “and here.” She kissed Mabel’s lips, and in that moment, Mabel knew that all the clichés were true.

She laughed, pulling away from Pacifica even when the princess leaned in for more. “You’re such a dork,” she said, biting down on her lip in an attempt to stifle another giggle. She tapped a finger against Pacifica’s nose.

Pacifica’s nose twitched. “But I’m _your_ dork, so it’s okay.”

“I like the sound of that,” Mabel hummed. “My dork.”

Pacifica smiled. “And you’re mine.”

“Mine’s a bigger dork,” Mabel said.

“Mine’s the _biggest_ dork,” Pacifica shot right back.

“Not possible,” Mabel said. She caught hold of Pacifica’s hand and held it to her lips. “My dork just came up with that line,” she said.

Mabel’s voice tickled Pacifica’s hand, and she giggled. “You’ve got me there,” she said.

Mabel wound an arm around Pacifica’s waist and pulled their bodies together. “I’ve got you _everywhere_.”

 

.

.           .

 

Mabel knocked the shack’s kitchen door open with her hip, her arms busy keeping a box from the palace kitchen off the ground. She kicked the door shut behind her and set the box down on the table before sidling up to her uncle. She wrapped her arms around Stan’s shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. “Hi Grunkle Stan!” The man grunted, and Mabel laughed. “I know you’re happy to see me. Hey Di- what happened to your _face_?”

Dipper winced. “Nothing.”

Mabel rushed across the kitchen and caught his cheeks between her palms. “You look like you got into a kickboxing match with a kangaroo. And lost.”

Dipper caught her wrists and gently removed her hands. “I’m just tired,” he said.

A knowing, smug sort of grin slipped on to Mabel’s lips. “Did you get any sleep last night?” She asked. “Or any night since-?”

“No he did not!”

Bill skipped into the room, smiling widely as he leaned over the table to kiss Dipper’s cheek. “Good morning Star!” He took Mabel’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, too. He had taken one step towards Stan before there was a spatula aimed at his face.

“Try it blondie.”

“Mabel, what is this?” Dipper asked from the table. He had made his way into the box she had brought from the palace, and moaned as he popped another of the sweets into his mouth.

Mabel beamed at him. “Now that Pacifica is in power, she’s lifted the laws against magical beings. A few of the palace workers have come-out as being all sorts of different things! The head chef turned out to be a sugar witch - he’s been cooking things like this for _days_!”

Dipper shut his eyes as he ate another of the tiny cakes. “That is literally the best thing I have ever put in my mouth,” he said.

Bill snorted. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

Dipper shoved Bill’s shoulder. “You wish.”

Bill wrapped his arms around Dipper’s shoulders, his chin resting on top of the other’s head. Mabel smiled. Stan gagged. At the end of the table, Ford hid his head behind a newspaper. “I’m getting too old for this.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Mabel said. She pulled a chair away from the kitchen table and fell into it with a sigh. “I just came over to grab a few things before me and Pacifica head off to visit Prince Ambrosias of Longleat.”

She received blank stares from around the table. Dipper said, “I have no idea who that is.”

Mabel grinned, “Neither do I!” She waved a hand as she explained, “But apparently he’s a cousin of Pacifica’s, and he’s being crowned King in a few days, and it would be an insult if Pacifica didn’t show up to give her blessing.” 

Stan sighed from the stove. “So I’ve only got to worry about two knuckleheads today.”

“Actually, no,” Dipper said. Stan raised an eyebrow, and Dipper waved a hand at Bill. “We’re going into the woods so that Bill can teach me some magic.”

Mabel snorted. “He’s gonna teach you some magic, Dipper?”

Stan buried his face in his hands with a groan. Ford laughed. “You’d best get going,” he said. “Before you give your uncle a heart attack.”

Dipper glanced down at himself – at his pyjamas made up of Bill’s shirt and a pair of underwear. “But I’m not dressed.”

“Don’t worry,” Bill said. He grabbed Dipper’s hand. “You don’t need clothes where we’re going.”

The world fell away from Dipper, the colours and shapes that had made up his kitchen fizzling away until there was nothing but darkness around him, and the heat of Bill’s fingers between his own. Then, just as they had disappeared, the colours came rushing back, forming the image of the forest around him. 

Solid ground rushed up to meet his feet, and Dipper crumpled to the floor. A blistering burn emanated from his chest, and when he coughed, the air that rushed past his lips was ice-cold.

“Oops.” Bill dropped to his knees at Dipper’s side and pressed a hand to Dipper’s back. “Forgot about that,” he said. “Genie transportation, not designed for passengers.”

Dipper rolled on to his back, squinting up at Bill. “How could you possibly forget about that?” Dipper was going to ask, but when he tried, all that came out was a pained wheeze.

“Oh no,” Bill said. He pressed his fingers to the hollow of Dipper’s throat and moved them steadily down. “Don’t panic,” he said, “but I might have turned your lungs inside out.”

Dipper’s eyes went wide. “ _What_?” He lunged at Bill, and the genie squeaked.

“Never mind, they’re good!”

Dipper collided with Bill and knocked him back. The leaves crunched beneath them, and Dipper felt moisture against his knees as they sunk into the mud. Dipper’s hands forced Bill’s shoulders down against the ground, but despite the pain that Dipper supposed his palms must have been causing Bill, he smiled.

The sun was behind Bill’s head, and the light caught his hair and lit it a stunning shade of gold. The ends of Bill’s hair, though, shone a deep red where the sun shone through the darker curls. “Y’know, Pine Tree,” he said, “when I said ‘magic’, I did mean it in the literal sense.” He smirked, “However.” Bill raised his leg between Dipper’s and rolled his hips, knocking Dipper to the side. Bill pinned Dipper’s hands down next to his shoulders, and leaned close to Dipper’s ear to purr, “I’m game if you are.”

Dipper snorted, “No thank you.” He wriggled his wrists free, and pushed Bill to the side. “It was your idea to teach me how to do this stuff, remember?” Dipper reminded Bill as he rose to his feet.

“I do,” Bill said. He took the hand Dipper extended to him and let Dipper haul him up. Bill kept hold of Dipper’s hand once he was on his feet, and pressed something into Dipper’s palm. “Here.” 

Dipper looked down at his hand. “This is a rock,” he said.

Bill smiled, “It sure is.”

Dipper nodded. “Why do I have a rock?”

“Because I want to give you the whole world, but for now this will have to do?” Bill said. Dipper raised a doubtful eyebrow, and Bill sighed. “Fine! Why don’t _you_ tell _me_ why you think you have the rock?”

Dipper’s eyebrows furrowed. “Is it a special rock that will help me channel my magic?”

Bill snorted. “No! It’s just a rock I picked up off the ground.” Dipper deflated, and Bill rolled his eyes. He caught Dipper’s wrist and held his hand between them. “I want you to break the rock,” he said.

Dipper frowned. “Why?”

“To practice control,” Bill said. He released Dipper’s wrist and took a few steps back. “It’s all well and good to have power, but it’s not going to do anything but destroy if you don’t learn how to control it. So,” Bill sat down on a smooth boulder, “break the rock.”

Dipper stared down at the stone in his hand. His nose twitched as he thought about it – pictured the stone splitting in two. He felt a bright warmth rush to his skin, like his blood had risen in temperature and he could feel every cell flowing through him. He didn’t remember wanting to close his eyes, but suddenly everything was dark. He heard a crack. 

Dipper opened his eyes. The boulder Bill had ben sitting on had split in two, as had every other rock in the clearing. That was, every other rock, but the one in Dipper’s hand.

“ _Okay_ ,” Bill said, “that was pretty bad. But it was your first try so… here!” He jumped to the side and pointed at the boulder he had previously been sitting on. “Fix this,” he said.

Dipper nodded. “Okay,” he said. He closed his eyes, and this time, the magic that lingered around him was already there when he reached out for it. He visualised the stone knitting itself back together. There was a crunch, and when Dipper opened his eyes, the rock was…

Bill laughed. “Okay, show off!” He gestured to the boulder, which no longer resembled the smooth stone it had once been. The rock had shifted, forming an elegant chair with a high back and intricately carved patterns dancing along the stone. “Took that a bit too far, kiddo.”

Dipper dropped his head into his hands. “I can’t do it.”

Bill snorted. “I noticed.” Dipper heard the leaves crunch under Bill’s feet as he moved to stand at Dipper’s side. He laid a hand on Dipper’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You care too much,” he said. 

Dipper made a part in his fingers to peek through. “Excuse me?”

“You couldn’t hurt your rock because I gave it to you. That sentiment is blocking your power,” he explained. “Then you went and over-did a simple fix-it job because I mentioned wanting to sit down.”

Dipper frowned. “So I’m supposed to not care?”

Bill slapped his shoulder. “Exactly!”

“Do you not care?” Dipper asked, quietly. “When you’re doing magic, I mean.”

“Of course I do,” Bill said. “But I’m not like you. You and I are not the same, and so it would be stupid to assume our magic would be!” Bill sighed, and the sound was heavy. “You lose control when you care, and I lose control when I don’t.”

Dipper’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, when he asked, “Have you ever lost control?”

Bill was quiet for a long moment. Then, he grinned. “Nope! I always manage to find something to care about!”

Dipper frowned. “Like what?”

Bill shrugged. “Myself, if there’s nothing else,” he said. “I always manage to scrape up enough narcissism to care about what happens to me!”

There was a snort from across the clearing. “Inspiring philosophy you’ve got there, Cipher.”

Dipper jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and his head snapped to the side, where a man was leaning casually against a tree.

Bill smiled. “Thank you,” he said.

Dipper frowned. “Um?” 

“My apologies,” the man said. He pushed himself away from the tree and across the clearing, his hand outstretched for Dipper to shake. Dipper reluctantly took the man’s hand, and his skin was cracked and dry. “Tad Strange,” he said.

“What is?”

The man laughed. “My name,” he said. “It’s Tad Strange.”

Dipper’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry, I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tad said, flashing Dipper a smile. “Happens all the time.”

“It’s an unusual name,” Dipper said.

At his side, Dipper noticed Bill grin. “You could say it was a-” 

“If you say ‘tad strange’,” Tad said, “I will murder you.” He was smiling fondly, but his eyes were serious. 

Tad’s smile flashed not two, but four canine teeth, sharply pointed and angled slightly towards the centre of his mouth. As Dipper watched them, they seemed to grow, and he hoped he was only imagining it. It was then that Dipper realised that Tad’s rough hand was still firmly clasping his own, though it had stopped shaking long ago.

Dipper cast a wary glance at Bill.

“Okay, that’s long enough!” Bill said, catching Dipper’s drift. He pushed forwards and separated their hands, claiming Dipper’s for his own as he moved to stand slightly between the two. “What do you want, square face?”

Tad took a breath. “Gideon Gleeful-” 

“Ew!” Bill cried. “The bloodthirsty oompa-loompa? Even I wouldn’t stoop that low!”

“Let me finish,” Tad sighed, exasperated. “I have no idea who he is, but he’s out of his lamp,” Tad said. “And he is far from happy with you.”

“Naturally,” Bill said. “I’m the one who locked him in there.”

Tad raised an eyebrow. “Might I ask why?” 

Bill shrugged. “He was mean.”

Tad’s eyebrow inched higher. “So you bound him to a metallic powerhouse for all eternity?” He asked.

“No.” Bill said, “He did that to himself. All I did was close the lid.” 

Tad sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you do anything but cause trouble?” He asked. Bill shook his head, and Tad made a sound that might have been an attempt at a laugh. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years,” Bill said.

Tad dragged his hand down his face. “He’s causing trouble,” he said, and for a second, Dipper was unsure of how old Tad was. He appeared no older than thirty, but with the tired look in his eyes, Dipper wondered if Tad wasn’t pushing fifty. Well, by genie standards he was probably a lot older than that, but in human terms, at least. 

Bill nodded. “I doubt he can do much else.”

“He’s working with Prince-”

“Gabriel, I know,” Bill said. “He wants my lamp to complete some dastardly plan, right?”

Tad frowned. “How did you-?”

Bill released Dipper’s hand to wriggle his fingers at Tad. “Magic!” Bill crossed his legs in front of him, seeming to remember that he didn’t actually need anything physical to sit down on. Dipper remembered Bill telling him that levitation took up a lot of energy, though, and he wondered if Bill was only doing it to show off. “Though I admit that I don’t know any specifics,” Bill said.

“He wants more magic,” Tad said. “He has taken on a rather extreme belief that only genies should be granted access to the veil. He thinks that if he can move the veil so that it only covers Kalahari, he’ll be given the throne in favour of his brother.”

Kalahari was the genie city, Dipper remembered. It was somewhere in a place Bill had called ‘South-Africa’. Dipper had never heard of it, so he imagined it was very far away. He had started to wonder if the city had fallen while Bill was locked away in his lamp, but if Tad was speaking of it now, it must have lasted.

“That wouldn’t be a twin brother, would it?” Bill asked, for a second sounding almost concerned. Dipper felt the genie’s eyes flick to look at him, and he wondered what significance being a twin might have.

“No,” Tad said, and Dipper thought he saw Bill breathe a sigh of relief. “They’re not even full blood,” Tad continued. “Gabriel was mothered by a mistress, but his brother is the son of the queen. Gabriel is older, but second in line.”

“Can’t be too pleased about that,” Bill said. “But does he honestly think that stealing magic from everyone outside of the city is going to change his lineage?”

“He does, as a matter of fact,” Tad said.

“And he has the support of the people?” Bill asked.

“I’m not sure.” Tad rubbed at his jaw, thoughtfully. “I suppose he wouldn’t be doing it if he was opposed by his future subjects.”

“Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should,” Bill said. 

Tad snorted. “Words you could stand to heed more often.”

Dipper smiled. “I second that,” he said. He instantly regretted it when both Tad and Bill looked at him, and he felt heat crawling up his face. 

“Well!” Bill huffed indignantly. “I see how it is,” he said, “my best friend and my lover, turning against me! Betrayal, Pine Tree! Mutiny!”

Dipper choked. “Never call me your lover again.”

Bill’s eyebrows lifted – a challenge. “Make me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dipper said.

“You don’t make sense." Dipper hadn’t noticed Bill inching towards him, but they were now stood toe-to-toe, nose-to-nose, Bill’s eyes staring straight down at Dipper’s mouth.

Dipper vaguely noticed Tad rolling his eyes. “Stay on topic, Bill.”

“Can’t,” Bill said, his breath hot against Dipper’s skin. “Too distracted.”

Tad made a sound that was half-gag, half-laugh. “Okay then!” He said loudly, scrambling backwards as Bill’s hand found its way to Dipper’s hip, underneath his shirt. Tad coughed, “I’m leaving now!”

By the following sound of a disgusted groan, Dipper imagined Tad didn’t disappear fast enough to miss Bill closing the distance between their mouths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, a friend of mine made the VERY FIRST FANART of this fic!!!! You can find it [here](http://zibilivedro.tumblr.com/post/145764316670/thetrianglefandom-i-told-you-i-would)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! <3 Please let me know if you liked it!!! Comments on my fics always make my day *hint hint* like seriously i don't care if you just tell me what you had for breakfast today i just need to know that someone is actually reading this crap


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